r 
 
 LIBRARY
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 These two translations, " Meister's Apprenticeship " and " Meister's 
 Travels," have long been out of print, but never altogether out of 
 demand ; nay, it would seem, the originally somewhat moderate de- 
 mand has gone on increasing, and continues to increase. They are 
 therefore here republished ; and the one being in some sort a sequel 
 to the other, though in rather unexpected sort, they are now printed 
 together. The English version of " Meister's Travels" has been ex- 
 tracted, or extricated, from a compilation of very various quality 
 named " German Romance "; and placed by the side of the "Appren- 
 ticeship," its forerunner, which, in the translated as in the original 
 state, appeared hitherto as a separate work. 
 
 In the " Apprenticeship," the first of these translations, which was 
 executed some fifteen years ago, under questionable auspices, I have 
 made many little changes ; but could not, unfortunately, change it 
 into a right translation : it hung, in many places, stiff and labored, 
 too like some unfortunate buckram cloak round the light harmonious 
 movement of the original ; and, alas, still hangs so, here and there ; 
 and may now hang. In the second translation, " Meister's Travels," 
 two years later in date, I have changed little or nothing : I might 
 have added much ; for the original, since that time, was as it were 
 taken to pieces by the author himself in his last years, and constructed 
 anew ; and in the final edition of his works appears with multifa- 
 rious intercalations, giving a great expansion both of size and of scope. 
 Not pedagogy only, and husbandry and art and religion and human 
 conduct in the nineteenth century, but geology, astronomy, cotton- 
 spinning, metallurgy, anatomical lecturing, and much else, are 
 typically shadowed forth in this second form of the "Travels"; 
 which, however, continues a fragment like the first, significantly 
 pointing on all hands towards infinitude ; not more complete than 
 the first was, or indeed perhaps less so. It will well reward the 
 
 (iii)
 
 Iv TO THE READER. 
 
 trustful student of Goethe to read this new form of the " Travels "; 
 and see how in that great mind, beaming in mildest mellow splendor, 
 beaming, if also trembling, like a great sun on the verge of the hori- 
 zon, near now to its long farewell, all these things were illuminated 
 and illustrated ; but for the mere English reader there are probably 
 in our prior edition of the " Travels " already novelties enough ; for 
 us, at all events, it seemed unadvisable to meddle with it farther at 
 l)resent. 
 
 Goethe's position towards the English public is greatly altered since 
 these translations first made their appearance. Criticisms, near the 
 mark, or farther from the mark, or even altogether far and away from 
 any mark ; of these there have been enough. 'These pass on their 
 road ; the man and his works remain what tl^ey are and were ; more 
 and more recognizable for what they are. Few English readers 
 can require now to be apprised that these two books, named novels, 
 come not under the Minerva-press category, nor the Ballantyne- 
 press category, nor any such category ; that the author is one whose 
 secret, by no means worn upon his sleeve, will never, by any ingen- 
 uity, be got at in that way. 
 
 For a translator, in the present case, it is enough to reflect that he 
 who imports into his own country any true delineation, a rationally- 
 spoken word on any subject, has done well. ' Ours is a wide world, 
 peaceably admitting many different modes of speech. In our wide 
 world there is but one altogether fatal personage — the dunce ; he that 
 speaks i/'rationally, that sees not, and yet thinks he s ees, j A genuine 
 seer and speaker, under what conditions soever, shall be welcome to 
 us : lias not he seen somewhat of great Nature our common mother's 
 bringing-forth ; seen it, loved it, laid his heart open to it and to the 
 mother of it, so that he can now rationally speak it for us ? He is 
 our brother, and a good, not a bad man ; his words are like gold, pre- 
 cious, whether stamped in our mint, or in what mint soever stamped. 
 
 T, CaklyIiE. 
 London, 1839.
 
 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE 
 
 TO THE FIRST EDITION OP MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 Whether it be that the quantity of genius among ourselves and 
 the French, and the number of works more lasting than brass pro- 
 duced by it, have of late been so considerable as to make us inde. 
 pendent of additional supplies ; or that, in our ancient aristocracy of 
 intellect, we disdain to be assisted by the Germans, whom, by a species 
 of second-sight, we have discovered, before knowing anything about 
 them, to be a tumid, dreaming, extravagant, insane race of mortals ; 
 certain it is, that hitherto our literary intercourse with that nation 
 has been very slight and precarious. After a brief period of not too 
 judicious cordiality, the acquaintance on our part was altogether 
 dropped : nor,.in the few years since we partially resumed it, have our 
 feelings of affection or esteem been materially increased. Our trans- 
 lators are unfortunate in their selection or execution, or the public is 
 tasteless and absurd in its demands ; for, with scarcely more than one 
 or two exceptions, the best works of Germany have lain neglected, 
 or worse than neglected, and the Germans are yet utterly unknown 
 to us. Kotzebue still lives in our minds as the representative of a 
 nation that despises him ; Schiller is chiefly known to us by the mon- 
 strous production of his boyhood ; and Klopstock by a hacked and 
 mangled image of his " Messias," in which a beautiful poein is dis- 
 torted into a theosophic rhapsody, and the brother of ^'irgil and 
 Racine ranks little higher than the author of ' ' Meditations among the 
 Tombs." 
 
 But of all these people there is none that has been more unjustly 
 dealt with than Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. For half a century 
 the admiration, we might almost say the idol of his countrymen, to 
 us he is still a stranger. His name, long echoed and re-echoed through 
 reviews and magazines, has become familiar to our ears ; but it is ft 
 
 (V)
 
 vi TBAIf'SLA TOR 'S PREFA CE 
 
 sound and nothing more ; it excites no definite idea in almost any 
 mind. To such as know him by the faint and garbled version of his 
 " Werter," Goethe figures as a sort of poetic Heraclitus ; some woe- 
 begone hypochondriac, whose eyes are overflowing with perpetual 
 tears, whose long life has been spent in melting into ecstasy at the 
 sight of waterfalls, and clouds, and the moral sublime, or dissolving 
 into hysterical wailings over hapless love stories and the miseries of 
 human life. They are not aware that Goethe smiles at this perform- 
 ance of his youth ; or that the German Werter, with all his faults, is 
 a very different person from his English namesake, that his ' ' Sorrows " 
 are in the original recorded in a tone of strength and sarcastic empha- 
 sis, of which the other offers no vestige, and intermingled with touches 
 of powerful thought, glimpses of a philosophy deep as it is bitter, 
 which our sagacious translator has seen proper wholly to omit. Others 
 again, who have fallen in with Retzsch's ' ' Outlines " and the extracts 
 from " Faust," consider Goethe as a wild mystic, a dealer in demon- 
 ology and osteology, who draws attention by the aid of skeletons and 
 evil spirits, whose excellence it is to be extravagant, whose chief aim 
 it is to do what no one but himself has tried. The tyro in German 
 may tell us that the charm of " Faust " is altogether unconnected with 
 its preternatural import ; that the work delineates the fate of human 
 enthusiasm struggling against doubts and errors from within, against 
 skepticism, contempt and selfishness from without ; and that the 
 witchcraft and magic, intended merely as a shadowy frame for so 
 complex and mysterious a picture of the moral world and the human 
 soul, are introduced for the purpose not so much of being trembled at 
 as laughed at. The voice of the tyro is not listened to ; our indolence 
 takes part with our ignorance ; "Faust" continues to be called a 
 monster ; and Goethe is regarded as a man of " some genius," which 
 he has perverted to produce all manner of misfashioned prodigies ; 
 things false, abortive, formless, gorgons and hydras and chimeras 
 dire. 
 
 Now, it must no doubt be granted, that so long as our invaluable 
 constitution is preserved in its pristine purity, the British nation may 
 exist in a state of comparative prosperity with very inadequate ideas 
 of Goethe ; but, at the same time, the present arrangement is an evil 
 ip its kind ; slight, it is true, and easy to be borne, yet still more easy
 
 TO THE FIRST EDITION. vii 
 
 to be remedied, and which therefore ought to have been remedied 
 ere now. Minds like Goethe's are the common property of all na- 
 tions ; and, for many reasons, all should have correct impressions of 
 them. 
 
 It is partly with the view of doing something to supply this want, 
 that " Wilhelm Meister's Lehrjahre" is now presented to the English 
 public. Written in its author's forty-fifth year, embracing hints or 
 disquisitions on almost every leading point in life and literature, it 
 affords us a more distinct view of his matured genius, his manner of 
 thought and favorite subjects, than any of his other works. Nor is 
 it Goethe alone whom it portrays ; the prevailing taste of Germany 
 is likewise indicated by it. Since the year 1795, when it first ap- 
 peared at Berlin, numerous editions of " Meister " have been printed : 
 critics of all ranks, and some of them dissenting widely from its doc- 
 trines, have loaded it with encomiums ; its songs and poems are 
 familiar to every German ear ; the people read it, and speak of it, 
 with an admiration approaching in many cases to enthusiasm. 
 
 That it will be equally successful in England, I am far indeed from 
 anticipating. Apart from the above considerations, from the curi- 
 osity, intelligent or idle, which it may awaken, the number of admir- 
 ing, or even approving judges it will find can scarcely fail of being 
 very limited. To the great mass of readers, who read to drive away 
 the tedium of mental vacancy, employing the crude phantasmagoria 
 of a modern novel, as their grandfathers employed tobacco and diluted 
 brandy, "Wilhelm Meister" will appear beyond endurance weary, 
 flat, stale and unprofitable. Those, in particular, who take delight in 
 " King Cambyses's vein," and open "Meister" with the thought of 
 " Werter " in their minds, will soon pause in utter dismay, and their 
 paroxysm of dismay will pass by degrees into unspeakable contempt. 
 Of romance interest there is next to none in " Meister " ; the characters 
 are samples to judge of, rather than persons to love or hate ; the inci- 
 dents are contrived for other objects than moving or affrighting us ; 
 the hero is a milksop, whom, with all his gifts, it takes an effort to 
 avoid despising. The author himself , far from "doing it in a pas- 
 sion," wears a face of the most still indifference throughout the 
 whole affair ; often it is even wrinkled by a slight sardonic grin. 
 For the friends of the sublime, then, for those who cannot do without
 
 viii TRANSLA TOR 'S PREFA OE 
 
 heroical sentiments and "moving accidents by flood and field," there 
 is nothing here that can be of any service. 
 
 Nor among readers of a far higher character can it be expected 
 that many will take the praiseworthy pains of Germans, reverential 
 of their favorite author, and anxious to hunt out his most elusive 
 charms. Few among iis will disturb themselves about the allegories 
 and typical allusions of the work ; will stop to inquire whether it 
 includes a remote emblem of human culture, or includes no such 
 matter ; whether this is a light airy sketch of the development of 
 man in all his endowments and faculties, gradually proceeding from 
 the first rude exhibitions of puppets and mountebanks, through the 
 perfection of poetic and dramatic art, iip to the unfolding of the prin- 
 ciple of religion, and the greatest of all arts, the art of life, — or is 
 nothing more than a bungled piece of patch-work, presenting in the 
 shape of a novel much that should have been suppressed entirely, or 
 at least given out by way of lecture. Whether the characters do or 
 do not represent distinct classes of men, including various stages of 
 human nature, from the gay material vivacity of Philina to the severe 
 moral grandeur of the Uncle and the splendid accomplishment of 
 Lothario, will to most of us be of small importance : and the ever- 
 lasting disquisitions about plajs and players, and politeness and ac- 
 tivity, and art and nature, will weary many a mind that knows not 
 and heeds not whether they are true or false. Yet every man's j udg- 
 ment is, in this free country, a lamp to himself : whoever is displeased 
 will censure ; and many, it is to be feared, will insist on judging 
 ' ' Meister " by the common rule, and what is worse, condemning it, let 
 Schlegel bawl as loudly as he pleases. "To judge," says he, " of 
 this book, — new and peculiar as it is, and only to be understood and 
 learned from itself, — by our common notion of the novel, a notion 
 pieced together and produced out of custom and belief, out of acci- 
 dental and arbitrary requisitions, — is as if a child should grasp at 
 the moon and stars, and insist on packing them into its toy -box."* 
 Unhappily, the most of us have boxes ; and some of them are very 
 small. 
 
 Yet, independently of these its more recondite and dubious quali- 
 ties, there are beauties in " Meister " which cannot but secure it some 
 
 * "Charaktcristik des Meister."
 
 TO TEE FIRST EDITION. ix 
 
 degree of favor at the bands of many. The philosophical discussions 
 it contains ; its keen glances into life and art ; the minute and skill- 
 ful delineation of men ; the lively genuine exhibition of the scenes 
 they move in ; the occasional touches of eloquence and tenderness, 
 and even of poetry, the very essence of poetry ; the quantity of 
 thought and knowledge embodied in a style so rich in general felici- 
 ties, of which, at least, the new and sometimes exquisite happy meta- 
 phors have been preserved, — cannot wholly escape an observing 
 reader, even on the most cursory perusal. To those who have formed 
 for themselves a picture of the world, who have drawn out, from the 
 thousand variable circumstances of their being, a philosophy of life, 
 it will be interesting and instructive to see how man and his concerns 
 are represented in the first of European minds : to those who have 
 penetrated to the limits of their own conceptions, and wrestled with 
 thoughts and feelings too high for them, it will be pleasing and 
 profitable to see the horizon of their certainties widened, or at least 
 separated with a firmer line from the impalpable obscure which sur- 
 rounds it on every side. Such persons I can fearlessly invite to study 
 " Meister. " Across the disfigurement of a translation , they will not fail 
 to discern indubitable traces of the greatest genius in our times. 
 And the longer they study, they are likely to discern them the more 
 distinctly. New charms will successively arise to view ; and of the 
 many apparent blemishes, while a few superficial ones may be con- 
 firmed, the greater and more important part will vanish, or even 
 change from dark to bright For, if I mistake not, it is with ' ' Meister " 
 as with every work of real and abiding excellence, the first glance is 
 the least favorable. A picture of Raphael, a Greek statue, a play of 
 Sophocles or Shakespeare, appears insignificant to the unpracticed 
 eye ; and not till after long and patient and intense examination, do 
 we begin to descry the earnest features of that beauty, which has its 
 foundation in the deepest nature of man, and will continue to be 
 pleasing through all ages. 
 
 If this appear excessive praise, as applied in any sense to " Meister," 
 the curious skeptic is desired to read and weigh the whole perfor- 
 mance, with all its references, relations, purposes ; and to pronounce 
 his verdict after he has clearly seized and appreciated them all. Or 
 Jf a more faint conviction will suffice, let him turn to the picture of
 
 X TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE 
 
 Wilhelm's states of mind in the end of tlie first book, and tlie begin- 
 ning of the second ; the eulogies of commerce and poesy, whicli fol- 
 low ; the description of Hamlet ; the character of histrionic life in 
 Serlo and Aurelia ; that of sedate and lofty manhood in the Uncle and 
 Lothario. But above all, let him turn to the history of Mignon. 
 This mysterious child, at first neglected by the reader, gradually 
 forced on his attention, at length overpowers him with an emotion 
 more deep and thrilling than any poet since the days of Shakespeare 
 has succeeded in producing. The daughter of enthusiasm, rapture, 
 passion and despair, she is of the earth, but not earthly. When she 
 glides, before us through the light mazes of her fairy dance, or twangs 
 her cithern to the notes of her homesick verses, or whirls her tambou- 
 rine and hurries round us like an antique Maenad, we could almost 
 fancy her a spirit ; so pure is she, so full of fervor, so disengaged 
 from the clay of this world. And when all the fearful particulars of 
 her story are at length laid together, and we behold in connected 
 order the image of her hapless existence, there is, in those dim recol- 
 lections, those feelings so simple, so impassioned and unspeakable, 
 consuming the closely-shrouded, woe-struck, yet ethereal spirit of the 
 poor creature, something which searches into the inmost recesses of 
 the soul. It is not tears which her fate calls forth •, but a feeling far 
 too deep for tears. The very fire of heaven seems miserably quenched 
 among the obstructions of this earth. Her little heart, so noble and 
 so helpless, perishes before the smallest of its many beauties is un- 
 folded : and all its loves and thoughts and longings do but add 
 another pang to death, and sink to silence utter and eternal. It is as 
 if the gloomy porch of Dis, and his pale kingdoms, were realized and 
 set before us, and we heard the ineffectual wail of infants reverberat- 
 ing from within their prison-walls forever. 
 
 Contiuuo auditse voces, vagitus et ingens, 
 Infantumque animce flentes in limine primo : 
 Quos dulcis vitae exsortes, et ab ubere raptos, 
 Abstulit atra dies, et funere mersit acerbo. 
 
 The history of Mignon runs like a thread of gold through the tissue 
 of the narrative, connecting with the heart much that were else ad- 
 dressed only to the head. Philosophy and eloquence might have done 
 the rest ; but this is poetry in the highest meaning of the word. It
 
 TO THE FIRST EDITION. xl 
 
 miist be for the power of producing such creations and emotions, that 
 Goethe is by many of his countrymen ranked at the side of Homer 
 and Shakespeare, as one of the only three men of genius that have 
 ever lived. 
 
 But my business here is not to judge of " Meister " or its author, it is 
 only to prepare others for judging it ; and for this purpose the most 
 that I had room to say is said. All I ask in the name of this illustri- 
 ous foreigner is, that the court which tries him be pure, and the jury 
 instructed in the cause ; that the work be not condemned for wanting 
 what it was not meant to have, and by persons nowise called to pass 
 sentence on it. 
 
 Respecting my own humble share in the adventure, it is scarcely 
 necessary to say anything. Fidelity is all the merit I have aimed at : 
 to convey the author's sentiments, as he himself expressed them ; to 
 follow the original, in all the variations of its style, has been my con- 
 stant endeavor. In many points, both literary and moral, I may have 
 wished devoutly that he had not written as he has done ; but to alter 
 anything was not in my commission. The literary and moral per- 
 suasions of a man like Goethe are objects of a rational curiosity ; 
 and the duty of a translator is simple and distinct. Accordingly, ex- 
 cept a few phrases and sentences, not in all amounting to a page, 
 ■which I have dropped as evidently unfit for the English taste, I have 
 studied to present the work exactly as it stands in German. That ray 
 success has been indifferent, I already know too well. In rendering 
 the ideas of Goethe, often so subtle, so capriciously expressive, the 
 meaning was not always easy to seize, or to convey with adequate 
 effect. There were thin tints of style, shades of ridicule or tender- 
 ness or solemnity, resting over large spaces, and so slight as almost 
 to be evanescent : some of these I may have failed to see ; to many of 
 them I could do no justice. Nor, even in plainer matters, can I pride 
 myself in having always imitated his colloquial familiarity without 
 falling into sentences bald and rugged, into idioms harsh or foreign ; 
 or in having copied the flowing oratory of other passages, without at 
 times exaggerating or defacing the swelling cadences and phrases of 
 my original. But what work, from the translating of a German novel 
 to the writing of an epic, was ever as the workman wished and meant 
 it? This version of "Meister," with whatever faults it may have, I
 
 xii TRAN8LA TOR 'S PREFA CE. 
 
 honestly present to my countrymen : if, wliile it makes any portion 
 of them more familar with the richest, most gifted of living minds, 
 it increase their knowledge, or even afford them a transient amuse- 
 ment, they will excuse its errors, and I shall be far more than paid 
 for all my labor. 
 Edinbubgh, 1824.
 
 WILHELM MEISTER^S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 BOOK I, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The play was late in breaking up : old Barbara went more than 
 once to the window, and listened for the sound of carriages. She 
 was waiting for Mariana, her pretty mistress, who had that night, in 
 the afterpiece, been acting the part of a young officer, to the no small 
 delight of the public. Barbara's impatience was greater than it used 
 to be, when she had nothing but a frugal supper to present : on this 
 occasion, Mariana was to be surprised with a packet, which Norberg, 
 a young and wealthy merchant, had sent by the post, to show that, in 
 absence, he still thought of his love. 
 
 As an old servant, as confidante, counselor, manager and house- 
 keeper, Barbara assumed the privilege of opening seals ; and this 
 evening she the less had been able to restrain her curiosity, as the 
 favor of the open-handed gallant was more a matter of anxiety with 
 herself than with her mistress. On breaking up the packet, she had 
 found, with unfeigned satisfaction, that it held a piece of fine muslin 
 and some ribbons of the newest fashion for Mariana ; with a quan- 
 tity of calico, two or three neckerchiefs, and a moderate rouleau of 
 money, for herself. Her esteem for the absent Norberg was of course 
 unbounded ; she meditated only how she might best present him to 
 the mind of Mariana, best bring to her recollection what she owed 
 him, and what he had a right to expect from her fidelity and 
 thankfulness. 
 
 The muslin, with the ribbons half unrolled, to set it off by their 
 colors, lay like a Christmas present on the small table ; the position 
 of the lights increased the glitter of the gift ; all was in order, 
 when the old woman heard Mariana's step on the stairs, and hastened 
 to meet her. But what was her disappointment, when the little 
 female officer, without deigning to regard her cares.ses, rushed past 
 her with unusual speed and agitation ; threw her hat and sword 
 
 (13)
 
 14 MEISTER'S APPREN1ICE8HIP. 
 
 upon the table, and walked hastily up and down, bestowing not & 
 look on the lights, or any portion of the apparatus ! 
 
 " What ails thee, my darling ? " exclaimed the astonished Barbara ; 
 " for Heaven's sake, what is the matter? Look here, my pretty 
 child ? See what a present ! And who could have sent it but thy 
 kindest of friends? Norberg has given thee the muslin to make a 
 nightgown of ; he will soon be here himself ; he seems to be fonder 
 and more generous than ever." 
 
 Barbara went to the table, that she might exhibit the memorials 
 with which Norberg had likewise honored Iter, when Mariana, turn- 
 ing away from the presents, exclaimed with vehemence, "Off! off I 
 Not a word of all this to-night ! I have yielded to thee ; thou hast 
 willed it ; be it so ! When Norberg comes, I am his, am thine, am 
 any one's ; make of me what thou pleasest ; but till then I will be my 
 own ; and, if thou hadst a thousand tongues, thou shouldst never talk 
 me from my purpose. All, all that is my own will I give up to him 
 who loves me ; whom I love. No sour faces ! I will abandon myself 
 to this affection, as if it were to last forever." 
 
 The old damsel had abundance of objections and serious consider- 
 ations to allege ; in the progress of the dialogue, she was growing 
 bitter and keen, when Mariana sprang at her, and seized her by the 
 breast. The old damsel laughed aloud. "I must have a care," she 
 cried, " that you don't get into pantaloons again, if I mean to be sure 
 of my life ! Come, doff you ! The girl will beg my pardon for the 
 foolish things the boy is doing to me. Off with the frock ! Off with 
 them all ! The dress beseems you not ; it is dangerous for you, I 
 observe ; the epaulets make you too bold." 
 
 Thus speaking, she had laid hands upon her mistress : Mariana 
 pushed her off, exclaiming, " Not so fast ! I expect a visit to-night." 
 
 " Visit ! " rejoined Barbara ; " you surely do not look for Meister, 
 the young, soft-hearted, callow merchant's son ? " 
 
 "Just for him," replied Mariana. 
 
 "Generosity appears to be growing your ruling passion," said the 
 old woman, with a grin; "you connect yourself with minors and 
 moneyless people, as if they were the chosen of the earth. Doubtless 
 it is charming to be worshiped as a benefactress." 
 
 ' ' Jeer as thou pleasest. I love him ! I love him ! With what rap- 
 ture do I now, for the first time, speak the word ! TJiis is the passion 
 which I have mimicked so often, when I knew not what it meant. 
 Yes ! I will throw myself about his neck ; I will clasp him as if I 
 could hold him forever. I will show him all my love ; will enjoy aJl 
 his in its whole extent. " 
 
 " Moderate yourself," said the old dame coolly ; " moderate your- 
 self ! A single word will interrupt your rapture : Norberg is com- 
 ing ! Coming in a fortnight ! Here is the letter that arrived with 
 the packet." 
 
 " And, though the morrow were to rob me of my friend, I would
 
 BOOK I. CHAPTER II. 15 
 
 conceal it from myself and liira. A fortniglit ! An age ! Within a 
 fortnight, what may not happen, what may not alter ? " 
 
 Here Wilhelm entered. We need not say how fast she flew to 
 meet him ; with what rapture he clasped the red uniform, and pressed 
 the beautiful wearer of it to his bosom. It is not for us to describe 
 the blessedness of two lovers. Old Barbara went grumbling away ; 
 we shall retire with her, and leave the happy two alone. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 When Wilhelm saluted his mother, next morning, she informed 
 him that his father was very greatly discontented with him, and 
 meant to forbid him these daily visits to the playhouse. " Though I 
 myself often go with pleasure to the theater," she continued, " I 
 could almost detest it entirely, when I think that our fireside peace 
 is broken by your excessive passion for that amusement. Your 
 father is ever repeating : What is the use of it ? How can any one 
 waste his time so ? " 
 
 "He has already told me this," said Wilhelm; "and perhaps I 
 answered him too hastily ; but, for Heaven's sake, mother, is nothing 
 then of use but what immediately puts money in our purse ; but 
 what procures us some property that we can lay our hands on ? Had 
 we not, for instance, room enough in the old house ; and was it in- 
 dispensable to build a new one ? Does not my father every year ex- 
 pend a large part of his profit in ornamenting his chambers ? Are not 
 these silk carpets, this English furniture, likewise of no use ? Might, 
 we not content ourselves with worse? For my own part, I confess,! 
 these striped walls, these hundred times repeated flowers, and knots,! 
 and baskets, and figures, produce a really disagreeable effect uponi 
 me. At best, they but remind me of the front curtain of our theater. 
 But what a different thing it is to sit and look at that ! There, if 
 you must wait for a while, you are always sure that it will rise at 
 last, and disclose to you a thousand curious objects, to entertain, to 
 instruct and to exalt you." 
 
 " But you go to excess with it," said the mother ; "your father 
 wishes to be entertained in the evenings as well as you ; besides, he 
 thinks it dissipates your attention ; and when he grows ill-humored 
 on the subject, it is I that must bear the blame. How often have I 
 been upbraided with that miserable puppet-show, which I was un- 
 lucky enough to provide for you at Christmas, twelve years ago ! It 
 was the first thing that put these plays into your head." 
 
 " O, do not blame the poor puppets ; do not repent of your love and 
 motherly care ! It was the only happy hour I had enjoyed in the new 
 empty house. I never can forget that hour ; I see it still before me ;
 
 16 MEISTEB'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 I recollect how surprised I was, when, after we had got our customary 
 presents, you made us seat ourselves before the door that leads to the 
 other room. The door opened ; but not as formerly, to let us pass 
 and repass ; the entrance was occupied by an unexpected show. 
 Within it rose a porch, concealed by a mysterious curtain. All of us 
 were standing at a distance ; our eagerness to see what glittering or 
 jingling article lay hid behind the half-transparent veil was mounting 
 higher and liigher, when you bade us each sit down upon his stool 
 and wait with patience. 
 
 " At length all of us were seated and silent ; a whistle gave the 
 signal ; the curtain rolled aloft, and showed us the interior of the 
 temple, painted in deep red colors. The high-priest Samuel ap- 
 peared with Jonathan, and their strange alternating voices seemed to 
 me the most striking thing on earth. Shortly after entered Saul, over- 
 whelmed with confusion at the impertinence of that heavy-limbed 
 warrior, who had defied him and his people. But how glad was I 
 when the little dapper son of Jesse, with his crook and shepherd's 
 pouch and sling, came hopping forth and said : ' Dread king and 
 sovereign lord ! let no one's heart sink down because of this ; if your 
 majesty will grant me leave, I will go out to battle with tliis bluster- 
 ing giant.' Here ended the first act ; lea.ving the spectators more 
 curious than ever to see what farther would happen, each praying 
 that the music might soon be done. At last the curtain rose again. 
 David devoted the flesh of the monster to the fowls of the air and the 
 beasts of the field ; the Philistine scorned and bullied him, stamped 
 mightily with both his feet, and at length fell like a mass of clay, 
 affording a splendid termination to the piece. And then the virgins 
 sang : ' Saul hath slain his thousands, but David his ten thousands ! ' 
 The giant's head was borne before his little victor, who received the 
 king's beautiful daughter to wife. Yet withal, I remember, I was 
 vexed at the dwarfish stature of this lucky prince ; for the great 
 Goliath and the small David had both been formed, according to the 
 common notion, with a due regard to their figures and proportions. I 
 pray you, mother, tell me what has now become of those puppets? 
 I promised to show them to a friend, whom I was lately entertaining 
 with a history of all this child's work." 
 
 " I can easily conceive," said the mother, " how these things should 
 stick so firmly in your mind : I well remember what an interest you 
 took in them ; how you stole the little book from me, and learned the 
 whole piece Ijy heart. I first noticed it one evening wlien you had 
 made a Goliath and a David of wax ; you set them both to declaim 
 against each other, and at length gave a deadly stab to the giant, fix- 
 ing his shapeless head, stuck upon a large pin with a wax handle, in 
 little David's hand. I then felt such a motherly contentment at your 
 fine recitation and good memory, that I resolved to give you up the 
 whole wooden troop to your own disposal. I did not then foresee that 
 it would cause me so many heavy hours."
 
 BOOK I. CHAPTER III. 17 
 
 " Do not repent of it," said Williclni ; " tliis little sport lias often 
 made us happy." So saying, he got the keys ; made haste to find the 
 puppets ; and' for a moment, was transported back into those times 
 when thev almost seemed to him alive, when he felt as if he himself 
 could give them life by the cunning of his voice and the movements 
 of his hands. He took them to his room, and locked them up with 
 care. 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 If the first love is indeed, as I hear it everywhere maintained to be, 
 the most delicious feeling which the heart of man, before it or after, 
 can experience — then our hero must be reckoned doubly happy, as 
 permitted to enjoy the pleasure of this chosen period in all its full- 
 ness. Few men are so peculiarly favored ; by far the greater part 
 are led by the feelings of their youth into nothing but a school of 
 hardship, where, after a stinted and checkered season of enjoyment, 
 they are at length constrained to renounce their dearest wishes, and to 
 jtearn forever to dispense with what once hovered before them as the 
 highest happiness of existence. 
 
 Wilhelm's passion for that charming girl now soared aloft on the 
 wings of imagination : after a short acquaintance, he had gained her 
 affections ; he found himself in possession of a being whom w^ith all 
 his heart he not only loved, but honored : for she had first appeared 
 before him in the flattering light of theatric pomp, and his passion 
 for the stage combined itself with his earliest love for woman. His 
 youth allowed him to enjoy rich pleasures, which the activity of his 
 fancy exalted and maintained. The situation of his mistress, too, 
 gave a turn to her conduct, which greatly enlivened his emotions. 
 The fear lest her lover might, before tlie time, detect the real state in 
 which she stood, diffused over all her conduct an interesting tinge of 
 anxiety and bashf illness ; her attachment to the youth was deep ; her 
 inquietude itself appeared but to augment her tenderness ; she was 
 the loveliest of creatures while beside him. 
 
 When the first tumult of joy had passed, and our friend began to 
 look back upon his life and its concerns, everj^thing appeared new to 
 him ; his duties seemed holier^ his inclinations keener, his knowledge 
 clearer, his talents stronger, his purposes more decided. Accord- 
 ingly, he soon fell upon a plan to avoid the reproaches of his father, 
 to still the cares of his mother, and at the same time to enjoy Mari- 
 ana's love without disturbance. Through the day he punctually 
 transacted his business, commonly forebore attending the theater, 
 strove to be entertaining at table in the evening ; and when all were 
 asleep, he glided softly out into the garden, and hastened, wrapt up
 
 18 MEISTEB' 8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 in liis mantle, with all the feelings of Leander in his bosom, to meet 
 his mistress without delay. 
 
 " What is this you bring ?" inquired Mariana, as he entered one 
 evening, witli a bundle, which Barbara, in hopes it might turn out 
 to be some valuable present, fixed her eyes upon with great attention. 
 " You will never guess," said Willi elm. 
 
 Great was the surprise of Mariana, great the scorn of Barbara, when 
 the napkin being loosened gave to view a perplexed multitude of span- 
 long puppets. Mariana laughed aloud, as Wilhelm set himself to 
 disentangle the confusion of the wires, and show her each figure by 
 itself. Barbara glided sulkily out of the room. 
 
 A very little thing will entertain two lovers ; and accordingly our 
 friends, this evening, were as happy as they wished to be. The little 
 troop was mustered ; each figure was minutely examined, and laughed 
 at, in its turn. King Saul, with his golden crown and his black vel- 
 vet robe, Mariana did not like ; he looked, she said, too stiff and 
 pedantic. She was far better pleased with Jonathan, his sleek chin, 
 his turban, his cloak of red and yellow. She soon got the art of turn- 
 ing him deftly on his wire ; she made him bow, and repeat declarations 
 of love. On the other hand, she refused to give the least attention 
 to the prophet Samuel, though Wilhelm commended the pontifical 
 breastplate, and told her that the taffeta of the cassock had been 
 taken from a gown of his own grandmother's. David she thought 
 too small, Goliath was too large ; she held by Jonathan. She grew 
 to manage him so featly, and at last to extend her caresses from the 
 puppet to its owner, that, on this occasion, as on others, a silly sport 
 became the introduction to happy hours. 
 
 Their soft, sweet dreams were broken in upon by a noise which 
 arose on the street. Mariana called for the old dame, who as usual, 
 was occupied in furbishing the changeful materials of the playhouse 
 wardrobe for the service of the piece next to be acted. Barbara said, 
 the disturbance arose from a set of jolly companions, who were just 
 then sallying out of the Italian tavern, hard by, where they had been 
 busy discussing fresh oysters, a cargo of which had just arrived, and 
 by no means sparing their champagne. 
 
 "Pity," Mariana said, "that we did not think of it in time ; we 
 might have had some entertainment to ourselves." 
 
 " It is not yet too late," said Wilhelm, giving Barbara a louis-d'or ; 
 "get us what we want ; then come and take a share with us." 
 
 The old dame made speedy work ; ere long a trimly-covered table, 
 with a neat collation, stood before the lovers. They made Barbara 
 sit with them ; they ate and drank, and enjoyed themselves. 
 
 On such occasions, there is never want of enougli to say. Mariana 
 soon took up little Jonathan again, and the old dame turned the con- 
 versation upon Wilhelm's favorite topic. "You were once telling 
 us," she said, " about the first exhibition of a puppet-show on Christ- 
 mas-eve ; I remember you were interrupted, just as the ballet was
 
 BOOK I. CHAPTER III. 19 
 
 going to begin. We have now tlie pleasure of a personal acquaint- 
 ance with the honorable company by whom those wonderful efEecta 
 were brought about." 
 
 "O yes ! " cried Mariana, " do tell us how it all went on, and how 
 you felt tlien." 
 
 " It is a fine emotion, Mariana," said the youth, " when we bethink 
 ourselves of old times, and old harmless errors ; especially if this is 
 at a period when we have happily gained some elevation, from which 
 we can look around us, and survey the path we have left behind. It 
 is so pleasant to think, with composure and satisfaction, of many ob- 
 stacles, which often with painful feelings we may have regarded as 
 invincible : pleasant to compare what we now are, with what we then 
 were struggling to become. But I am happy above others in this 
 matter, that I speak to you about the past, at a moment when I can 
 also look forth into the blooming country, which we are yet to wan- 
 der through together, hand in hand." 
 
 "But how was it with the ballet? " said Barbara. " I fear it did 
 not quite go off as it should have done." 
 
 "I assure you," said Wilhelm, "it went off quite well. And cer- 
 tainly the strange caperiugs of these Moors and Mooresses, these shep- 
 herds and shepherdesses, these dwarfs and dwarfesses, will never 
 altogether leave my recollection, while I live. When the curtain 
 dropped, and the door clo.sed, our little party skipped away, frolicking 
 as if they had been tipsy, to their beds ; for myself, however, I re- 
 member that I could not go to .sleep : still wanting to have something 
 told me on the subject, I continued putting questions to every one, 
 and would hardly let the maid away who had brought me up to bed. 
 
 "Next morning, alas ! the magic apparatus had altogether van- 
 ished ; the mysterious veil was carried off, the door permitted us 
 again to go and come through it witliout obstruction ; the manifold 
 adventures of the evening had passed away, and left no trace behind. 
 My brothers and sisters were running up and down with their play- 
 things ; I alone kept gliding to and fro ; it seemed to me impossible 
 that two bare door-posts could be all that now remained, where the 
 night before so much enchantment had displayed itself. Alas ! the 
 man that seeks a lost love can hardly be unhappier than I then 
 thought myself." 
 
 A rapturous look, which he cast on Mariana, convinced her that he 
 was not much afraid of ever having a misfortune such as this to 
 strive with.
 
 ^d MEISTMR*S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "My sole wish now," continued Willielm, " was to witness a sec- 
 ond exhibition of the piece. For this purpose I had recourse, by con- 
 stant entreaties, to my mother ; and she attempted in a favorable 
 hour to persuade my father. Her labor, however, was in vain. My 
 father's principle was, that none but enjoyments of rare occurrence 
 were adequately prized ; that neither young- nor old could set a proper 
 value on pleasures which they tasted every day. 
 
 "We might have waited long, perhaps till Christmas returned, 
 had not the contriver and secret director of the spectacle himself felt 
 a pleasure in repeating the display of it ; partly incited, I suppose, 
 by the wish to produce a brand-new harlequin expressly prepared 
 for the afterpiece. 
 
 " A young officer of the artillery, a person of great gifts in all sorts 
 of mechanical contrivance, had served my father in many essential 
 particulars during the building of the house ; for which, having been 
 handsomely rewarded, he felt desirous of expressing his thankfulness 
 to the family of his patron, and so made us young ones a present of 
 this complete theater, which, in hours of leisure, he had already 
 carved and painted and strung together. It was this young man, 
 who, with the help of a servant, had himself managed the puppets, 
 disguising his voice to pronounce their various speeches. He had no 
 great difficulty in persuading my father, who granted, out of com- 
 plaisance to a friend, what he had denied from conviction to his chil- 
 dren. In short, our theater was again set up, some little ones of the 
 neighborhood were invited, and the piece was again represented. 
 
 " If I had formerly experienced the delights of surprise and aston- 
 ishment, I enjoyed on this second occasion the pleasure of examining 
 and scrutinizing. How all this happened was my present concern. 
 That the puppets themselves did not speak, I had already decided ; 
 that of themselves they did not move, I also conjectured : but then 
 how came it all to be so pretty, and to look just as if they both spoke 
 and moved of themselves ; and where were the lights, and the people 
 that managed the deception V These enigmas perplexed me the 
 more, as I wished at once to be among the enchanters and the en- 
 chanted, at once to have a secret hand in theplay, and to enjoy, as a 
 looker-on, the pleasure of illusion. 
 
 " The piece being finished, preparations were making for the farce ; 
 the spectators had risen, and were all busy talking together. I 
 squeezed myself closer to the door, and heard, by the rattling within, 
 that the people were packing up some articles. I lifted the lowest 
 screen, and poked in my head between the posts. As our mother 
 noticed it, she drew me back ; but 1 had seen well enough, that here
 
 BOOK L CHAPTER V. Si 
 
 friends and foes, Saul and Goliatli, and whatever else their names 
 might be, were lying quietly down together in a drawer; and thus 
 my half-contented curiosity received a fresh excitement. To my 
 great surprise, moreover, I had noticed the lieutenant very diligently 
 occupied in the interior of the shrine. Henceforth, Jack-pudding, 
 however he might clatter with his heels, could not any longer enter- 
 tain me. I sank into deep meditation ; my discovery at once made 
 me more satisfied, and less so than before. After a little, it first 
 struck me that 1 yet comprehended nothing ; and here I was right ; 
 for the connection of tlie parts with each other was entirely unknown 
 to me, and everything depends on that. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " In well adjusted and regulated houses," continued Wilhelm, " chil- 
 dren have a feeling not unlike what I conceive rats and mice to have ; 
 they keep a sliarp eye on all crevices and holes, where they may conio 
 at any forbidden dainty ; they enjoy it also with a fearful, stolen 
 satisfaction, which forms no small part of the happiness of childhood. 
 
 "More than any other of the young ones, I was in the habit of 
 looking out attentively to see if I could notice any cupboard left open, 
 or key standing in its lock. The more reverence I bore in my heart 
 for those closed doors, on the outside of which I had to pass' by for 
 weeks and months, catching only a furtive glance when our motlier 
 now and then opened the consecrated place to take something from 
 it, — the quicker was I to make use of any opportunities which the 
 forgetfulness of our housekeepers at times afforded me. 
 
 " Among all the doors, that of tlie store-room was, of course, the 
 one I watched most narrowly. Few of the joyful anticipations in life 
 can equal the feeling which I used to liave, when my mother hap- 
 pened to call me, that I might help her to carry out anything, after 
 which I might pick up a few dried plums, either with her kind per- 
 mission, or by help of my own dexterity. The accumulated treasuresof 
 this chamber took hold of my imagination by their magnitude; the very 
 fragrance exhaled by so multifarious a collection of sweet-smelling 
 spices produced such a craving effect on me, that I never failed, when 
 passing near, to linger for a little, and regale myself at least on the 
 unbolted atmosphere. At length, one Sunday morning, my mother, 
 being hurried by the ringing of the church-bells, forgot to take this 
 precious key with her on shutting tlie door, and went away, leaving 
 all the house in a deep Sabbath stillness. No sooner had I marked 
 this oversight, than gliding softly once or twice to and from the place, 
 I at last approached very gingerly, opened the door, and felt myself, 
 after a single step in immediate contact with these manifold and long-
 
 23 MElBfER'S APPHmTlGESHlP. 
 
 wislied-for means of happiness. I glanced over glasses, chests and 
 bags and drawers and boxes, with a quick and doubtful eye, consider- 
 ing what I ought to choose and take ; turned finally to my dear with- 
 ered plums, provided myself also with a few dried apples, and com- 
 pleted the forage with an orange-chip. I%vas quietly retreating with 
 my plunder, when some little chests, lying piled over one another, 
 caught my attention ; the more so, as I noticed a wire, with hooks at 
 the end of it, sticking through the joint of the lid in one of them. 
 Full of eager hopes, I opened this singular package ; and judge of my 
 emotions, when I found my glad world of heroes all sleeping safe 
 within ! I meant to pick out the topmost, and, having examined 
 them, to pull up those below ; but in this attempt, the wires got very 
 soon entangled, and I fell into a fright and flutter, more particularly as 
 the cook just then began making some stir in the kitchen, which lay 
 close by ; so that I had nothing for it but to squeeze the whole to- 
 gether the best way I could, and to shut the chest, liaving stolen from 
 it nothing but a little written book, which happened to be lying above, 
 and contained the whole drama of Goliath and David. With this 
 booty I made good my retreat into the garret. 
 
 "Henceforth all my stolen hours of solitude were devoted to pe- 
 rusing the play, to learning it by heart, and picturing in thought how 
 glorious it would be, could I but get the figures, to make them move 
 along with it. In idea, I myself became David and Goliath by turns. 
 In every corner of the court-yard, of the stables, of the garden, under 
 all kinds of circumstances, I labored to stamp the whole piece upon 
 my mind ; laid hold of all the characters, and learned their speeches 
 by heart, most commonly, however, taking up the parts of the chief 
 personages, and allowing all the rest to move along with them, but 
 as satellites, across my memory. Thus day and night the heroic 
 words of David, wherewith he challenged the braggart giant, Goliath 
 of Gath, kept their place in my thoughts. I often muttered them to 
 myself, while no one gave heed to me, except my father, who, fre- 
 quently observing some such detached exclamation, would in secret 
 praise the excellent memory of his boy, that had retained so much 
 from only two recitations. 
 
 "By this means, growing always bolder, I one evening repeated 
 almost the entire piece before my mother, whilst I was busied in 
 fashioning some bits of wax into players. She observed it, ques- 
 tioned me hard, and I confessed. 
 
 "By good fortune, this detection happened at a time when the 
 lieutenant had himself been expressing a wish to initiate me in the 
 mysteries of the art. My mother forthwith gave him notice of these 
 unexpected talents ; and he now contrived to make my parents oflfer 
 him a couple of chambers in the top story, which commonly stood 
 empty, that he might accommodate the spectators in the one, while 
 the other held his actors, the proscenium again filling up the open- 
 ing of the door. My father had allowed his friend to arrange all
 
 BOOK I. CHAPTER VI. 23 
 
 this ; himself, in the meantime, seeming only to look at the trans- 
 action, as it were, through his fingers ; for his maxim was, that 
 children should not be allowed .to see the kindness which is felt 
 towards them, lest their pretensions come to extend too far. He was 
 of opinion, that, in the enjoyments of the young, one should assume 
 a serious air ; often interrupting the course of their festivities, to 
 prevent their satisfaction from degenerating into excess and pre- 
 sumption. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 "The lieutenant now set up his theater, and managed all the rest. 
 During the week, I readily observed that he often came into the 
 house at unusual hours, and I soon guessed the cause. My eager- 
 ness increased immensely ; for I well understood, that till Sunday 
 evening I could have no share in what was going on. At last the 
 wished-for day arrived. At five in the evening, my conductor came 
 and took me up with him. Quivering with joy, I entered, and 
 descried, on both sides of the frame-work, the puppets all hanging 
 in order as they were to advance to view. I considered them nar- 
 rowly, and mounted on the steps, which raised them above the 
 scene, and allowed me to hover aloft over all that little world. Not 
 without reverence did I look down between the pieces of board, and 
 recollect what a glorious effect the whole would produce, and feel 
 into what mighty secrets I was now admitted. We made a trial, 
 which succeeded well. 
 
 " Next day, a party of children were invited : we performed 
 rarely : except that once, in the fire of action, I let poor Jonathan 
 fall, and was obliged to reach down with my hand and pick him up 
 again ; an accident which sadly marred the illusion, produced a peal 
 of laughter, and vexed me unspeakably. My father, however, 
 seemed to relish this misfortune not a little. Prudently shrouding up 
 the contentment he felt at the expertness of his little boy, after the 
 piece was finished, he dwelt on the mistakes we had committed, 
 saying it would all have been very pretty, had not this or that gone 
 wrong with us. 
 
 "I was vexed to the heart at these things, and sad for all the 
 evening. By next morning, however, I had quite slept off my sor- 
 row ; and was blessed in the persuasion that, but for this one fault, 
 I had played delightfully. The spectators also flattered me with 
 their unanimous approval ; they all maintained, that though the 
 lieutenant, in regard to the coarse and the fine voices, had done great 
 things, yet his declamation was in general too stiff and affected ; 
 whereas the new aspirant spoke his Jonathan and David with
 
 34 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 exquisite grace. My mother in particular commended the gallant 
 tone in which I had challenged Goliath, and acted the modest victor 
 before the king. * 
 
 "From this time, to my extreme delight, *the theater continued 
 open ; and as the spring advanced, so that fires could be dispensed 
 with, T passed all my hours of recreation lying in the garret, and 
 making the puppets caper and play together. Often I invited up my 
 comrades, or my brothers and sisters ; but when they would not 
 come, I stayed by myself not the less. My imagination brooded over 
 that tiny world, which soon afterwards acquired another form. 
 
 " Scarcely had I once or twice exhibited the first piece, for which 
 my scenery and actors had been formed and decorated, till it ceased 
 to give me any pleasure. On the other hand, among some books of 
 hiy grandfather's, 1 had happened to fall in with the "German Thea- 
 ter," and a few translations of Italian ojieras ; in which works I soon 
 got very deeply immersed, on each occasion first reckoning up the 
 characters, and then, without farther ceremony, proceeding to 
 exhil)it the piece. King Saul, with his black velvet cloak, was 
 therefore now obliged to personate Darius or Cato, or some other 
 pagan hero ; in which cases, it may be observed, the plays were 
 never wholly represented ; for most part, only the fifth acts, where 
 the cutting and stabbing lay. 
 
 " It was natural that the operas, with their manifold adventures 
 and vicissitudes, should attract me more than anything beside. In 
 these compositions I found stormy seas, gods descending in chariots 
 of cloud, and, what most of all delighted me, abundance of thunder 
 and lightning. I did my l)est with pasteboard, paint and paper : I 
 could make night very prettily ; my lightning was fearful to behold ; 
 only my thunder did not always prosper, which, however, was of less 
 importance. In operas, moreover, I found frequent opportunities of 
 introducing my David and (ioliath, persons whom the regular drama 
 would hardly admit. Daily I felt more attachment for the hampered 
 spot where I enjoyed so many, pleasures ; and I must confess, the 
 fragrance which the puppets had acquired from the store-room added 
 not a little to my satisfaction. 
 
 "The decorations of my theater were now in a tolerable state of 
 completeness. I had always had the knack of drawing with com- 
 passes, and clipping pasteboard, and coloring figures ; and here it 
 served me in good stead. But the more sorry was I, on the other 
 hand, when, as frequently happened, my stock of actors would not 
 suffice for representing great affairs. 
 
 "My sisters dressing and undressing their dolls awoke in me the 
 project of furnishing my heroes by and by with garments which 
 might also be put off and on. Accordingly, I slit the scraps of cloth 
 from oft' their bodies ; tacked the fragments together as well as pos- 
 sible ; saved a particle of money to buy new ribbons and lace ; begged 
 many a rag of taffeta ; and so formed, by degrees, a full theatrical
 
 BOOK I. CHAPTER VI. 25 
 
 wardrobe, iu vvhicli hoop-petticoats for the ladies were especially re- 
 membered. 
 
 "My troup was now fairly provided with dresses for the most 
 important piece, and you might have expected that henceforth one 
 exhibition would follow close upon the heels of another : but it hap- 
 pened with me, as it often happens with children ; they embrace wide 
 plans, make mighty preparations, then a few trials, and the whole 
 undertaking is abandoned. 1 was guilty of this fault. My greatest 
 pleasure lay in the inventive part, and the employment of my fancy. 
 This or that piece inspired me witli interest for a few scenes of it, and 
 immediately 1 set about providing new apparel suitable for the occa- 
 sion. In such fluctuating operations, many jjarts of the primary 
 dresses of my heroes had fallen into disorder, or totally gone out of 
 sight ; so that now the first great piece could no longer be exhibited. 
 I surrendered myself to my imagination ; I rehearsed and prepared 
 forever ; built a thousand castles in the air, and saw not that I was at 
 the same time undermining the foundations of these little edifices." 
 
 During this recital, Mariana had called up and put in action all her 
 courtesy for Wilhelm, that she might conceal her sleepiness. Divert- 
 ing as the matter seemed on one side, it was too simple for her taste, 
 and her lover's view of it too serious. She softly pressed her foot on 
 his, however, and gave him all visible signs of attention and approval. 
 She drank out of his glass ; Wilhelm was convinced that no word of 
 his history had fallen to the ground. After a short jjause he said : 
 " It is now your turn, Mariana, to tell me what were your first child- 
 ish joys. Till now, we have always been too busy with the present 
 to trouble ourselves, on either side, about our previous way of life. 
 Let me hear, Mariana, under what circumstances you were reared ; 
 what are the very first lively impressions which you still remember?" 
 
 These questions would have very much embarrassed Mariana, had 
 not Barbara made haste to help her. "Think you," said the cun- 
 ning old woman, " we have been so mindful of what happened to us 
 long ago, that we have merry things like these to talk about ; and 
 though we had, that we could give them such an air in talking of 
 them ? " 
 
 " As if 'they needed it ! " cried Wilhelm. " I love this soft, good, 
 amiable creature so much, that I regret every instant of my life 
 which has not been spent beside her. Allow me, at least in fancy, to 
 have a share in thy bygone life : tell me everything ; I will tell every- 
 thing to thee ! If possible, we will deceive ourselves, and win back 
 those days that have been lost to love." 
 
 "If you require it so eagerly," replied the old dame, "we can 
 easily content you. Qnly, in the first place, let us hear how your 
 taste* for the theater gradually reached a head ; how you practiced, 
 how you improved so happily, that now you can pass for a superior 
 actor. No doubt, you must have met with droll adventures in your 
 progress. It is not worth while to go to bed now : I have still one
 
 §6 meisteU's apprenticeship. 
 
 flask in reserve ; and who knows whether we shall soon all sit together 
 so quiet and cheery again ? " 
 
 Mariana cast a mournful look upon her, which Wilhelm not ob» 
 serving, proceeded with his narrative. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " The recreations of youth, as my companions began to increase in 
 number, interfered with this solitary, still enjoyment. I was by 
 turns a hunter, a soldier, a knight, as our games required me ; and 
 constantly I had this small advantage above the rest, that I was quali- 
 fied to furnish them suitably with the necessary equipments. The 
 swords, for example, were generally of my manufacture ; I gilded 
 and decorated the scabbards ; and a secret instinct allowed me not to 
 stop till our militia was accoutered according to the antique model. 
 Helmets, with plumes of paper, were got ready ; shields, even coats 
 of mail, were provided : undertakings in which such of the servants 
 as had aught of the tailor in them, and the seamstresses of the house, 
 broke many a needle. 
 
 " A part of my comrades I had now got well equipped ; by degrees 
 the rest were likewise furbished up, though on a thriftier plan ; and 
 so a very seemly corps at length was mustered. We marched about 
 the court-yards and gardens ; smote fearfully upon each other's 
 shields and heads : many flaws of discord rose among us, but none 
 that lasted. 
 
 " This diversion greatly entertained my fellows ; but scarcely had 
 it been twice or thrice repeated till it ceased to content me. The 
 aspect of so many harnessed figures naturally stimulated in my mind 
 those ideas of chivalry which, for some time, since I had commenced 
 the reading of old romances, were filling my imagination. 
 
 "Koppen's translation of 'Jerusalem Delivered 'at length fell into 
 my hands, and gave these wandering thoughts a settled direction. 
 The whole poem, it is true, I could not read ; but there were pieces 
 of it which I learned by heart, and the images expressed in these 
 hovered round me. Particularly was I captivated with Clorinda, and 
 all her deeds and bearing. The masculine womanhood, the peaceful 
 completeness of her being, had a greater influence upon my mind, 
 just beginning to unfold itself, than the factitious charms of Armida, 
 though the garden of that enchantress was by no means an object of 
 my contempt. 
 
 " But a hundred and a hundred times, while walking in the even- 
 ings on the balcony which stretches along the front of the house, and 
 looking over the neighborhood, as the quivering splendor streamed 
 up at the horizon from the departed sun, and the stars came forth,
 
 BOOK T. CHAPTER VIl 27 
 
 and night pressed forward from every cleft and hollow, and the small 
 shrill tone of the cricket tinkled through the solemn stillness— a hun- 
 dred and a hundred times have I repeated to myself the history of 
 the mournful duel between Tancred and Clorinda. 
 
 " However strongly I inclined by nature to the party of the Christ- 
 ians, I could not help declaring for the Paynim heroine with all my 
 heart, when she engaged to set on fire the great tower of the be- 
 siegers. And when Tancred in the darkness met the supposed knight, 
 and the strife began between them under that veil of gloom, and the 
 two battled fiercely, I could never pronounce the words. 
 
 But now the sure and fated hotir is nigh, 
 Clorinda's course is ended, she must die I 
 
 without tears rushing into my eyes,- which flowed plentifully, when 
 the hapless lover, plunging his sword into her breast, opened the de- 
 parting warrior's helmet, recognized the lady of his heart, and, shud- 
 dering brought water to baptize her. 
 
 " How did my heart run over when Tancred struck with his sword 
 that tree in the enchanted wood ; when blood flowed from the gash, 
 and a voice sounded in his ears, that now again he was wounding 
 Clorinda ; that destiny had marked him out ever unwittingly to in- 
 jure what he loved beyond all else ! 
 
 " The recital took such hold of my imagination that the passages I 
 had read of the poem began dimly, in my mind, to conglomerate into 
 a whole ; wherewith I was so taken that I could not but propose to 
 have it some way represented. I meant to have Tancred and Rinaldo 
 acted, and for this purpose two coats of mail, which I had before 
 manufactured, seemed expressly suitable. The one, formed of dark- 
 gray paper with scales, was to serve for the solemn Tancred ; the 
 other, of silver and gilt paper, for the magnificent Rinaldo. In the 
 vivacity of my anticipations, I told the whole project to my comrades, 
 who felt quite charmed with it, only could not well comprehend how 
 so glorious a thing could be exhibited, and, above all, exhibited by 
 them. 
 
 " Such scruples I easily set aside. Without hesitation, I took upon 
 me in idea the management of two rooms in the house of a neighbor- 
 ing playmate ; not calculating that his venerable aunt would never 
 give them up, or considering how a theater could be made of them, 
 whereof I had no settled notion, except that it was to be fixed on beams, 
 to have side scenes made of parted folding screens, and on the floor a 
 large piece of cloth. From what quarter these materials and furnish- 
 ings were to come, I had not determined. 
 
 "So far as concerned the forest, we fell upon a good expedient. 
 We betook ourselves to an old servant of one of our families, who had 
 now become a woodman, with many entreaties that he would get us a 
 few young firs and birches ; which actually arrived more speedily 
 than we had reason to expect. But, in the next place, great was q\\v
 
 28 MEI8TER '8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 embarrassment as to how the piece should be got up before the trees 
 were withered. Now was the time for prudent counsel ! We had no 
 house, no scenery, no curtains ; the folding screens were all we had. 
 
 "In this forlorn condition we again applied to the lieutenant, giv- 
 ing him a copious description of all the glorious things we meant to 
 do. Little as he understood us, he was very helpful : he piled all the 
 tables he could get in the house or neighborhood, one above the other, 
 in a little room ; to these he fixed our folding screens ; and made a 
 back view with green curtains, sticking up our trees along with it. 
 
 " At length the appointed evening came ; the candles were lit, the 
 maids and children were sitting in their places, the piece was to go 
 forward, the whole corps of heroes was equipped and dressed, — when 
 each for the first time discovered that he knew not what he was to 
 say. In the heat of invention, being quite immersed in present diffi- 
 culties, I had forgotten the necessity of each understanding what and 
 where he was to speak ; nor, in the midst of our bustling preparations, 
 had it occurred to the rest ; each believing he could easily enact a hero, 
 easily so speak and bear himself, as became the personage into whose 
 world I had transplanted him. They all stood wonderstruck, asking : 
 Wliat was to come first ? I alone, having previously got ready Tan- 
 cred's part, entered solus on the scene, and began reciting some verses 
 of the epic. But as the passage soon changed into narrative, and I, 
 while speaking, was at once transformed into a third party, and the 
 bold Godfred(, when his turn came would not venture forth, I was at 
 last obliged to take leave of my spectators under peals of laughter ; a 
 disaster which cut me to the heart. Thus had our undertaking proved 
 abortive ; but the company still kept their places, still wishing to see 
 something. All of us were dressed ; I screwed my courage up, and 
 determined, foul or fair, to give them David and Goliath. Some of 
 my companions had before this helped me to exhibit the puppet-play ; 
 all of them had often seen it : we shared the characters among us ; 
 each promised to do his best ; and one small grinning urchin painted 
 a black beard upon his chin, and undertook, if any lacuna should oc- 
 cur, to fill it up with drollery as Harlequin ; an arrangement to which, 
 as contradicting the solemnity of the piece, I did not consent without 
 extreme reluctance ; and I vowed within myself, that, if once delivered 
 out of this perplexity, I would think long and well before risking the 
 exhibition of another piece."
 
 BOOK L CHAPTER VIII 39 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Mariana, overpowered with sleep, leaned upon her lover, who 
 clasped her close to him, and proceeded in his narrative, while the old 
 damsel prudently sipped up the remainder of the wine. 
 
 " The embarrassment," he said, " into which, along with my com- 
 panions, 1 had fallen, by attempting to act a play that did not any- 
 where exist, was soon forgotten. My passion for representing each 
 romance I read, each story that was told me, would not yield before 
 the most unmanageable materials. I felt convinced that whatever 
 gave delight in iiarrative must produce a far deeper impression when 
 exhibited ; I wanted to have everything before my eyes, everything 
 brought forth upon the stage. At school, when the elements of gen- 
 eral history were related to us, I carefully marked the passages %vliere 
 any person had been slain or poisoned in a singular way ; and my 
 imagination, glancing rapidly along the exposition and intrigue, hast- 
 ened to the interesting fifth act. Indeed I actually began to write 
 some pieces from the end backwards ; without, however, in any of 
 them reaching the beginning. 
 
 " At the same time, partly by inclination, partly by the counsel of 
 my good friends, who had caught the fancy of acting plays, I read a 
 whole wilderness of theatrical productions, as chance put them into 
 my hands. I was still in those happy years when all tilings please us, 
 when number and variety yield us abundant satisfaction. Unfor- 
 tunately, too, my taste was corrupted by another circumstance. Any 
 piece delighted me, especially in which I could hope to give delight ; 
 there were few which I did not peruse in this agreeable delusion ; 
 and my lively conceptive power enabling me to transfer myself into 
 all the characters, seduced me to believe that I might likewise repre- 
 sent them all. Hence, in the distribution of the parts, 1 commonly 
 selected such as did not fit me ; and always more than one part, if I 
 could by any means accomplish more. 
 
 '• In their games, children can make all things out of any : a staff 
 becomes a musket, a splinter of wood a sword, any bunch of cloth a 
 puppet, any crevice a chamber. Upon this principle was our private 
 theater got up. Totally unacquainted with the measure of our 
 strength, we undertook all ; we stuck at no qui pro quo, and felt con- 
 vinced that every one would take us for what we gave ourselves out 
 to be. Now, however, our affairs went on so soberly and smoothly, 
 that I have not even a curious insipidity to tell you of. We first 
 played all the few pieces in which only males are requisite ; next, we 
 travestied some of ourselves ; and at last took our sisters into the con- 
 cern along with us. In one or two houses our amusement was looked 
 upon as profitable, and company invited to see it. Nor did our lieu-
 
 30 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 tenant of artillery now turn liis back upon us. He sliowed us liow 
 we ought to make our exits and our entrances ; how we should 
 declaim, and with what attitudes and gestures. Yet generally he 
 earned small thanks for his toil : we conceived ourselves to be much 
 deeper in the secrets of theatrical art than he himself was. 
 
 " We very soon began to grow tired of tragedy ; for all of us believed, 
 as we had often heard, that it was easier to write or represent a tragedy 
 than to attain a proficiency in comedy. In our first attempts, accord- 
 ingly, we had felt as if exactly in our element : dignity of rank, 
 elevation of character, we studied to approach by stiffness and affecta- 
 tion, and imagined that we succeeded rarely ; but our happiness was 
 not complete, except we might rave outright, stamp with our feet, 
 and cast ourselves upon the ground, full of fury and despair. 
 
 " Boys and girls had not long carried on these amusements in con- 
 cert, till nature began to take her course, and our society branched 
 itself off into sundry little love associations, as generally more than 
 one sort of comedy is acted in the playhouse. Behind the scenes, each 
 happy pair pressed hands in the most tender style ; they floated in 
 blessedness, appearing to one another quite ideal persons, when so 
 transformed and decorated ; whilst, on the other hand, unlucky rivals 
 consumed themselves with envy, and out of malice and spite worked 
 every species of mischief. 
 
 " Our amusements, though undertaken without judgment, and car- 
 ried on without instruction, were not without their use to us. We 
 trained our memories and persons ; we acquired more dexterity in 
 speech and gesture than is usually met with at so early an age. But 
 for me in particular this time was, in truth, an epoch ; my mind 
 turned all its faculties exclusively to the theater, and my highest 
 happiness was in reading, in writing, or in acting plays. 
 
 "Meanwhile the labors of my regular teachers continued ; I had 
 been set apart for the mercantile life, and placed under the guidance 
 of our neighbor in the counting-house ; yet my spirit at this very time 
 recoiled more forcibly than ever from all that was to bind me to a low 
 profession. It was to the stage that I aimed at consecrating all my 
 powers ; on the stage that I meant to seek all my happiness and satis- 
 faction. 
 
 " I recollect a poem, which must be among my papers, where the 
 Muse of tragic art and another female form, by which I personified 
 Commerce, were made to strive very bravely for my most important 
 self. The idea is common, and I recollect not that the verses were of 
 any worth ; but you shall see it, for the sake of the fear, the abhor- 
 rence, the love and passion, which reign in it. How repulsively did 
 I paint the old housewife, with the distaff in her girdle, the bunch of 
 keys by her side, the spectacles on her nose ; ever toiling, ever rest- 
 less, quarrelsome and penurious, pitiful and dissatisfied ! How feel- 
 ingly did I describe the condition of that poor man who has to cringe 
 beneath her rod, 9,nd earn his slavish day'? wageg hj the sweat of his 
 ]t)row j
 
 SOOK I. CHAPTEU It. 81 
 
 "And how differently advanced the other! What an apparition 
 for the overclouded mind ! Formed as a queen, in her thoughts and 
 looks she announced herself the child of freedom. The feeling of 
 her own worth gave her dignity without pride : her apparel became 
 her, it veiled each limb without constraining it ; and the rich folds 
 repeated, like a thousand-voiced echo, the graceful movements of 
 the goddess. What a contrast ! How easy for me to decide ! Nor 
 had I forgotten the more peculiar characteristics of my muse. 
 Crowns and daggers, chains and masks, as my predecessors had 
 delivered them, were here produced once more. The contention 
 was keen ; the speeches of both were palpably enough contrasted, for 
 at fourteen years of age one usually paints the black lines and the 
 white pretty near each other. The old lady spoke as beseemed a 
 person that would pick up a pin from her path ; the other, like one 
 that could give away kingdoms. The warning threats of the house- 
 wife were disregarded ; I turned my back upon her promised riches ; 
 disinherited and naked, I gave myself up to the muse ; she threw 
 her golden veil over me, and called me hers. 
 
 "Could I have thought, my dearest," he exclaimed, pressing 
 Mariana close to him, "that another and a more lovely goddess 
 would come to encourage me in my purpose, to travel with me on 
 my journey, the poem might have had a finer turn, a far more inter- 
 esting end. Yet it is no poetry ; it is truth and life that I feel in thy 
 arms ; let us prize the sweet happiness, and consciously enjoy it." 
 
 The pressure of his arms, the emotion of his elevated voice, awoke 
 Mariana, who hastened by caresses to conceal her embarrassment ; 
 for no word of the last part of his story had reached her. It is to be 
 wished, that in future, our hero, when recounting his favorite his- 
 tories, may find more attentive hearers. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Thus Wilhelm passed his nights in the enjoyment of confiding 
 love ; his days in the expectation of new happy hours. When desire 
 and hope had first attracted him to Mariana, he already felt as if 
 inspired with new life ; felt as if he were beginning to be another 
 man : he was now united to her ; the contentment of his wishes had 
 become a delicious habitude. His heart strove to ennoble the object 
 of his passion ; his spirit to exalt with it the young creature whom 
 he loved. In the shortest absence, thoughts of her arose within 
 him. If she had once been necessary to him, she was now grown 
 indispensable, now that he was bound to her by all the ties of nature. 
 His pure soul felt that she was the half, more than the half of him- 
 self. He was grateful and devoted without limit.
 
 32 MEISTER '8 A PPB ENTICEflHlP. 
 
 Mariana, too, succeeded in deceiving herself for a season ; she 
 shared with him the feeling of his liveliest blessedness. Alas, if the 
 cold hand of self-reproach had not often come across her heart ! She 
 was not secure from it even in Wilhelra's bosom, even under the 
 wings of his love. And when she was again left alone, again left to 
 sink from the clouds, to wliich passion had exalted her, into the con- 
 sciousness of her real condition, then she was indeed to be pitied. 
 So long as she had lived among degrading perplexities, disguising 
 from herself her real situation, or rather never thinking of it, friv- 
 olity had helped her through ; the incidents she was exposed to had 
 come upon her each by itself ; satisfaction and vexation liad can- 
 celed one another ; humiliation had been compensated by vanity ; 
 want by frequent though momentary superfluity ; she could plead 
 necessity and custom as a law or an excuse ; and hitherto all painful 
 emotions from hour to hour, and from day to day, had by these 
 means been shaken off. But now, for some instants, the poor girl 
 had felt herself transported to a better world ; aloft, as it were, in 
 the midst of light and joy, she had looked down upon the abject 
 desert of her life, had felt what a miserable creature is the woman 
 who, inspiring desire, does not also inspire reverence and lave ; she 
 regretted and repented, but found herself outwardly or inwardly no 
 better for regret. She had nothing that she could accomplish or 
 resolve upon. Looking into herself and searching, all was waste, 
 and void within her soul ; her heart had no place of strength or 
 refuge. But the more sorrowful her state was, the more vehemently 
 did her feelings cling to the man whom she had loved ; her passion 
 for him even waxed stronger daily, as the danger of losing him came 
 daily nearer. 
 
 Wilhelm, on the other hand, soared serenely happy in higher 
 regions ; to him also a new world had been disclosed, but a world 
 rich in the most glorious prospects. Scarcely had the first excess of 
 joy subsided, when all that had long been gliding dimly through his 
 soul stood up in bright distinctness before it. She is thine ! She has 
 given herself away to thee ! She, the loved, the wished-for, the adored, 
 has given herself away to thee in trust and faith ; she shall not find 
 thee ungrateful for the gift. Standing or walking, he talked to him- 
 self ; his heart constantly overflowed ; with a copiousness of splendid 
 words, he uttered to himself the loftiest emotions. He imagined that 
 he understood the visible beckoning of fate reaching out its hand by 
 Mariana to save him from the stagnant, weary, drudgiiig life out of 
 which he had so often wished for ileliverance. To leave his father's 
 house and people now ai^pearod a light matter. He was young, and 
 had not tried the world ; his eagerness to range over its expanses, 
 seeking fortune and contentment, was stimulated by his love. His 
 vocation to the theater was now clear to him ; the high goal, which 
 he saw raised before hi?n, seemed nearer wliilst he was advancing to 
 it with Mariana's hand in his ; and in his comfortable prudence, he
 
 BOOK I CHAPTER X 33 
 
 Tbeheld in himself the embryo of a great actor ; the future founder of 
 that national theater, for wliicli he heard so much and various sigh- 
 ing on every side. All that till now had slumbered, in the most 
 secret corners of his soul, at length awoke, lie painted for himself 
 a picture of his manifold ideas, in tlie colors of love, upon a canvas 
 ■of cloud : the figures of it, indeed, ran sadly into one another; yet 
 the whole had an air but the more brilliant on that account. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 He was now in his chamber at home, ransacking his papers, mak- 
 ing ready for departure. Whatever savored of his previous employ- 
 ment he threw aside, meaning at his entrance upon life to be free 
 even from recollections that could paiu him. Works of taste alone, 
 poets and critics, were, as acknowledged friends, placed among the 
 ■chosen few. Heretofore he had given little heed to the critical au- 
 thors : his desire for instruction now revived, when, again looking 
 through his books, he found the theoretical part of them lying gener- 
 ally still uncut. Ill the full persuasion that such works were abso- 
 lutely necessary, heliad bouglit a number of them ; but, with the best 
 disposition in the world, he had not reached midway in any. 
 
 The more steadfastly, on the other hand, he had dwelt upon exam- 
 ples ; and in every kind that was Icnown to him, had made attempts 
 himself. 
 
 Werner entered the room ; and seeing his friend busied with the 
 well-known sheets, he exclaimed : " Again among your papers V And 
 without intending, I dare swear, to finish any one of them ! You 
 look them through and through once or twice, then throw them by, 
 and begin something new." 
 
 "To finish is not the scholar's care ; it is enough if he improves 
 himself by practice." 
 
 " But also completes according to his best ability." 
 
 " And still the question might be asked, is there no good hope of a 
 youth who, op commencing some unsuitable affair, soon discovers its 
 unsuitableness, and discontinues his exertions, not choosing to spend 
 toil and time on what never can be of any value ? " 
 
 " I know well enough it was never your concern to bring aught to 
 a conclusion ; you have always sickened on it before it came half-way. 
 When you were the director of our puppet-show, for instance, how 
 many times were fresh clothes got ready for the dwarfish troup, fresh 
 decorations furbished up ! Now this tragedy was to be played, now 
 that ; and at the very best you gave us some fifth act, wliere all was 
 going topsy-turvy ; and people cutting one another's throats." 
 
 " If you talk of those times, whose blame really was it that we 
 Meister — 2
 
 34 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 ripped off from our puppets the clotlies that fitted them, and were fast 
 stitched to their bodies, and laid out monev for a large and useless 
 wardrobe ? Was it not yours, my good friend, who had always some 
 fragment of ribbon to traiBc ^vith : and skill, at the same time, to 
 stimulate my taste, and turn it to your profit ? " 
 
 Werner laughed, and continued : "I still recollect, with pleasure, 
 how I used to extract gain from your theatrical campaigns, as army 
 contractors do from war. When you mustered for tlie ' Deliverance 
 of Jerusalem,' I, for my part, made a pretty thing of profit, like the 
 Venetians in the corresponding case. 1 know of nothing in the world 
 more rational than to turn the folly of others to our own advantage." 
 
 " Perhaps it were a noisier satisfaction to cure men of their fol- 
 lies." 
 
 " From the little I know of men, this might seem a vain endeavor. 
 But something towards it is always done, when any individual man 
 grows wise and rich ; and generally this happens at the cost of others. " 
 
 " Well, here is ' The Youth at the Parting of the Ways '; it has 
 just come into my hand," said W'ilhelm, drawing out a fold of papers 
 from the rest ; " this at least is finished, whatever else it may be." 
 
 " Away with it, to the fire with it ! " cried Werner. " The inven- 
 tion does not deserve the smallest praise : that affair has plagued me 
 enough already, and drawn upon yourself your father's wrath. The 
 verses may be altogether beautiful ; but themeatiing of them is funda- 
 mentally false. 1 still recollect your Commerce personified ; a shriv- 
 eled, wretched-looking sibyl she was. I suppose you picked up the 
 image of her from some miserable huckster's shop. At that time, you 
 had no true idea at all of trade ; whilst I could not think of any man 
 whose spirit was, or needed to be, more enlarged than the spirit of a 
 genuine merchant. What a thing it is to see the order which prevails 
 throughout his business ! By means of this he can at any time sur- 
 vey the general whole, without needing to perplex, himself in the 
 details. What advantages does he derive from the system of book- 
 keeping by double entry ! It is among the finest inventions of the 
 human mind ; every prudent master of a house should introduce it 
 in his economy." 
 
 " Pardon me," said Wilhelm, smiling ; "you begin by the form, as 
 if it were the matter ; you traders commonly, in your additions and 
 balancings, forget what is the proper net result of life." 
 
 "My good friend, you do not see how form and matter are in this 
 case one ; hoAv neither can exist without the other. Order and arrange- 
 ment increase the desire to save and get. A man embarrassed in 
 his circumstances, and conducting them imprudently, likes best to con- 
 tinue in the dark ; he Avill not gladly reckon up the debtor entries he 
 is charged with. But on the other hand, there is nothing to a prudent 
 manager more pleasant than daily to set before himself the sums of 
 his growing fortune. Even a mischance, if it surprise and vex, will 
 not affright him ; for he knows at once what gains he has acquired to
 
 BOOK I. CHAPTER X. 35 
 
 cast into the other scale. I am convinced, my friend, that if you once 
 had a proper taste for our employments, you would grant that many 
 faculties of the mind are called into full and vigorous play by them." 
 
 "Possibly this journey I am thinking of may bring me to other 
 thoughts." 
 
 "0, certainly. Believe me, you want but to look upon some great 
 scene of activity to make you ours forever ; and when you come back, 
 you will joyfully enroll yourself among that class of men whose art 
 it is to draw towards themselves a portion of the money, and materials 
 of enjoyment, which circulate in their appointed courses through the 
 world. Cast a look on the natural and artificial productions of all the 
 regions of the earth ; consider how they have become, one here, 
 another there, articles of necessity for men. How pleasant and how 
 intellectual a task is it to calculate, at any moment, M'hat is most 
 required, and yet is wanting, or hard to find ; to jjrocure for each 
 easily and soon what he demands : to lay in your stock prudently be- 
 forehand, and then to enjoy the profit of every pulse in that mighty 
 circulation. This, it appears to me, is what no man that has a head 
 can attend to without pleasure." 
 
 Wilhelm seemed to acquiesce, and Werner continued. 
 
 " Do but visit one or two great trading -towns, one or two sea-ports, 
 and see if you can withstand the impression. When you observe how 
 many men are busied, whence so many things have come, and whither 
 they are going, you will feel as if you too could gladly mingle in the 
 business. You will then see the smallest piece of ware in its connec- 
 tion with the whole mercantile concern ; and for that very reason you 
 wiU reckon nothing paltry, because everything augments the circula- 
 tion by which you yourself are supported." 
 
 Werner had formed his solid understanding in constant inter- 
 course with Wilhelm ; he was thus accustomed to think also of his 
 profession, of 7a'.s employments, with elevation of soul ; and he firmly 
 believed that he did so with more j ustice than his otherwise more 
 gifted and valued friend, who, as it seemed to him, had placed his 
 dearest hopes, and directed all the force of his mind, upon the most 
 imaginary objects in the world. Many a time he thought this false 
 enthusiasm would infallibly be got the better of, and so excellent a 
 soul be brought back to the right path. So, hoping in the present 
 instance, he continued : "The great ones of the world have taken 
 this earth of ours to themselves ; they live in the midst of splendor 
 and superfluity. The smallest nook of the land is already a posses- 
 sion, none may touch it or meddle with it ; offices and civic callings 
 bring in little profit ; where, then, will you find more honest acqui- 
 sitions, juster conquests, than those of trade? If the princes of this 
 world hold the rivers, the highways, the havens in their power, and 
 take a heavy tribute from everything that passes through them, may 
 not we embrace with joy the opportunity of levying tax and toll, by 
 QUr activity, on those commodities which the real or imaginary wants
 
 36 MEISTER'B APPREWTIGESHIP. 
 
 of men have rendered indispensable ? I can promise you, if you 
 would rightly apply your poetic view, my goddess miglit be repre- 
 sented as an invincible, victorious queen, and boldly opposed to yours. 
 It is true, she bears the olive rather than the sword : dagger or chain 
 she knows not ; but she, too, gives crowns to her favorites ; which, 
 without offense to yours be it said, are of true gold from the furnace 
 and the mine, and glance with genuine pearls, which she brings up 
 from the depths of the ocean, by the hands of her unwearied ser- 
 vants." 
 
 This sally somewhat nettled Wilhelm ; but he concealed his senti- 
 ments, remembering that Werner used to listen with composure to 
 his apostrophes. Besides, he had fairness enough to be pleased at 
 seeing each man think the best of his own peculiar craft ; provided 
 only his, of which he was so passionately fond, were likewise left in 
 peace. 
 
 " And for you," exclaimed "Werner, " who take so warm an interest 
 in human concerns, what a sight will it be to behold the fortune 
 which accompanies bold undertakings distributed to men before your 
 eyes. What is more spirit-stirring than the aspect of a ship arriving 
 from a lucky voyage, or soon returning with a rich capture ? Not 
 alone the relatives, the acquaintances, and those that share with the 
 adventurers, but every unconcerned spectator also is excited, when he 
 sees the joy with which the long-imprisoned shipman springs on land 
 before his keel has wholly reached it, feeling that he is free once 
 more, and now can trust what he has rescued from the false sea to 
 the firm and faithful earth. It is not, my friend, in figures of arith- 
 metic alone that gain presents itself before us ; fortune is the god- 
 dess of breathing men ; to feel her favors truly, we must live and be 
 men who toil with their living minds and bodies, and enjoy wittlQieni. 
 also." 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 It is now time that we should know something more of Wilhelm's 
 father and of Werner's ; two men of very different modes of thinking, 
 but whose opinions so far coincided, that both regarded commerce as 
 the noblest calling, and both were peculiarly attentive to every ad- 
 vantage which any kind of speculation might produce to them. Old 
 Meister, when his father died, had turned into money a valuable col- 
 lection of pictures, drawings, copperplates and antiquities : he had 
 entirely rebuilt and furnished his house in the mewest style, and 
 turned his other property to profit in all possible ways.. A considerable 
 portion of it lie liad embarked in trade, under the direcftion of the elder 
 Werner, a man noted as an active merchant, whose speculations were 
 commonly favored by fortune. But nothing was so much desired by
 
 BOOK I. CHAPTER XL 37 
 
 Meister as to confer upon his son tliose qualities of which himself 
 was destitute, and to leave his children advantages which he reckoned 
 it of the highest importance to possess. Withal, he felt a peculiar 
 inclination for magnificence ; for whatever catches the eye, and pos- 
 sesses at the same time real worth and durability. In his house he 
 would have all things solid and massive ; his stores must be copious 
 and rich ; all his plate must be heavy ; the furniture of his table 
 costly. On the other hand, his guests were seldom invited ; for 
 every dinner was a festival, which, both for its expense and for its 
 inconvenience, could not often be repeated. The ceremony of his 
 house went on at a settled, uniform rate ; and everything that moved 
 or had place in it was just what yielded no one any real enjoyment. 
 
 The elder Werner, in his dark and hampered house, led quite 
 another sort of life. The business of the day, in his narrow counting- 
 house, at his ancient desk, once done, \Yerner liked to eat well, and, 
 if possible, to drink better. Nor could he fully enjoy good things in 
 solitude ; with his family he must always see at table his friends, and 
 any stranger that had the slightest connection with his house. His 
 chairs were of unknown age and antique fashion : but he daily invited 
 some to sit on them. The dainty victuals arre.sted the attention of his 
 guests, and none remarked that they were served up in common ware. 
 His cellar held no great stock of wine ; but the emptied niches were 
 usually filled by more of a superior sort. 
 
 So lived these two fathers, often meeting to take counsel about their 
 common concerns. On the day we are speaking of, it had been de- 
 termined to send Wilhelm out from home, for the dispatch of some 
 commercial affairs. 
 
 " Let him look about him in the world," said old Meister, "and at 
 the same time carry on our business in distant parts. One cannot do a 
 young man any greater kindness, than initiate him early in the future 
 business of his life. Your son returned so happily from his first ex- 
 pedition, and transacted his affairs so cleverly that I am verj' curious 
 to see how mine will do : Ms experience, I fear, will cost him dearer." 
 
 Old Meister had a high notion of his son's faculties and capabili- 
 ties ; he said this in the hope that his friend would contradict him, 
 and hold up to view the admirable gifts of the youth. Here, how- 
 ever, he deceived himself ; old Werner, who, in practical concerns, 
 would trust no man but such as he had proved, answered placidly : 
 " One must try all things ; we can send him on tlie same journey, we 
 shall give him a paper of directions to conduct him. There are sundry 
 debts to be gathered in, old connections are to be renewed, new ones 
 to be made. He may likewise help the speculation I was lately talk- 
 ing of ; for without punctual intelligence gathered on the spot, there 
 is little to be done in it." • 
 
 "He must prepare," said Meister, "and set forth as soon as possi- 
 ble. Where shall we get a horse for him to siiit this business ? " 
 
 " We shall not seek far. The shopkeeper in H , who owes us
 
 38 MEIISTEB'8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 somewhat, but is withal a good man, has offered me a horse instead 
 of payment. My son knows it, and tells me it is a serviceable beast." 
 
 " He may fetch it himself ; let him go with the diligence ; the day 
 after to-morrow he is back again betimes ; we have his saddle-bags 
 and letters made ready in the meantime ; he can set out on Monday 
 morning. " 
 
 Wilhelm was sent for, and informed of their determination. Who 
 so glad as he, now seeing the means of executing his purpose put into 
 his hands, the opportunity made ready for him, without co-operation 
 of his own ! So intense was his love, so full was his conviction of the 
 perfect rectitude of his intention to escape from the pressure of his 
 actual mode of life, and follow a new and nobler career, that his con- 
 science did no' in the least rebel ; no anxiety arose within him ; he 
 even reckoned the deception he was meditating holy. He felt certain 
 that, in the long-run, parents and relations would praise and bless him 
 for this resolution : he acknowledged in these concurring circum- 
 stances the signal of a guiding fate. 
 
 How slowly the time passed with him till night, till the hour 
 when he should again see his Mariana ! He sat in his chamber, and 
 revolved the plan of his journey ; as a conjuror, or a cunning thief in 
 durance often draws out his feet from the fast-locked irons, to cherish 
 in himself the conviction that his deliverance is possible, nay nearer 
 than short-sighted turnkeys believe. 
 
 At last the appointed hour struck : he went out, shook off all anx- 
 iety, and hastened through the silent streets. In the middle of the 
 great square, he raised his hands to the sky, feeling as if all was be- 
 hind him and below him ; he had freed himself from all. One mo- 
 ment he figured himself as in the arms of his beloved, the next as 
 glancing with her in the splendors of the stage ; he soared aloft in a 
 world of hopes, only now and then the call of some watchman brought 
 to his recollection that he was still wandering on the vulgar earth. 
 
 Mariana came to the stairs to meet him ; and how beautiful, how 
 lovely ! She received him in the new white neglig6 ; he thought he 
 had never seen her so charming. Thus did she handsel the gift of 
 her absent lover in the arms of a present one ; with true passion, she 
 lavished on her darling the whole treasure of those caresses, which 
 nature suggested, or art had taixght : need we ask if he was happy, if 
 he was blessed ':' 
 
 He disclosed to her what had passed, and showed her, in general 
 terms, his plan and his wishes. He would try, he said, to find a resi- 
 dence, then come back for her ; he hoped she would not refuse him 
 her hand. The poor girl was silent ; she concealed her tears, and 
 pressed her friend against her bo.som. Wilhelm, though interpreting 
 her silence in the most favorable manner, could have wished for a dis- 
 tinct reply ; and still more, when at last he inquired of her in the 
 tenderest and most delicate terms, if he might not think himself a 
 father. But to this she answered only with a sigh, with a kiss.
 
 BOOK I. CHAPTER XII. 89 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Next morning Mariana woke only to new despondency ; slie felt 
 herself very solitary, she wished not to see the light of day, but 
 stayed in bed, and wept. Old Barbara sat down by her, and tried to 
 persuade and console her ; but it was not in her power so soon to heal 
 the wounded heart. The moment was now at hand, to which the 
 poor girl had been looking forward as to the last of her life. Who 
 could be placed in a more painful situation ! The man she loved was 
 departing ; a disagreeable lover was threatening to come ; and the 
 most fearful mischiefs were to be anticipated, if the two, as might 
 easily happen, should meet together. 
 
 "Calm yourself, my dear," said the old woman; "do not spoil 
 your pretty eyes with crying. Is it, then, so terrible a thing to have 
 two lovers ? And though you can bestow your love but on the one, 
 yet be thankful to the other, who, caring for you as he does, certainly 
 deserves to be named your friend." 
 
 " My poor Wilhelm," said the other, all in tears, "had warning 
 that a separation was at hand. A dream discovered to him what we 
 strove so much to hide. He was sleeping calmly at my side ; on a 
 sudden I heard him muttering some unintelligible sounds ; I grew 
 frightened, and awoke him. Ah ! with what love and tenderness and 
 warmth did he clasp me ! ' Mariana ! ' cried he, ' what a horrid fate 
 have you freed me from ! How shall I thank you for deliverance 
 from such torment ! I dreamed that I was far from you, in an 
 unknown country, but your figure hovered before me ; I saw you on 
 a beautiful hill, the sunshine was glancing over it all ; how charm- 
 ing did you look ! But it had not lasted long, till I observed your 
 image sinking down, sinking, sinking ; I stretched out ray arms 
 towards you ; they could not reach you through the distance. Your 
 image still kept gliding down ; it approached a great sea that lay far 
 extended at the foot of the hill, a marsh rather than a sea. All at 
 once a man gave you his hand, and seemed meaning to conduct you 
 upwards, but he led you sidewards, and appeared to draw you after 
 him. I cried out ; as I could not reach you, I hoped to warn you. If 
 I tried to walk, the ground seemed to hold me fast ; if I could walk, 
 the water hindered me ; and even my cries were smothered in my 
 breast.' So said the poor youth, while recovering from his terror, 
 and reckoning himself happy to dissipate a frightful dream by the 
 most delicious reality." 
 
 Barbara made every effort to reduce, by her prose, the poetry of her 
 friend to the domain of common life ; eniploying, in the present case, 
 the ingenious craft which so often succeeds with bird-catchers, when 
 thev imitate with a whistle the tones of those luckless creatures which
 
 40 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 they soon liope to see by dozens safely lodged in their nets. She 
 praised Wilhelm ; she expatiated on his figure, his eyes, his love. 
 The poor girl heard her with a gratified heart ; then arose, let herself 
 be dressed, and appeared calmer. " My child, my darling," continued 
 the old woman, in a cozening tone, " I will not trouble you or injure 
 you ; I cannot think of tearing from you your dearest happiness. 
 Could you mistake my intention ? Have you forgotten, that on all 
 occasions I have cared for you more than for myself ? Tell me only 
 what you wish ; we shall soon see how it may be- brought about." 
 
 " What can I wish ? " said Mariana ; " I am miserable, miserable for 
 life ; I love him, and he loves me ; yet I see that I must part with 
 him, and know not how I shall survive it. Norberg comes, to whom 
 we owe our whole subsistence, whom we cannot live without. Wil- 
 helm is straitened in his fortune, he can do nothing for me." 
 
 "Yes, unfortunately, he is of those lovers who bring nothing but 
 their hearts ; and these people, too, have the highest pretensions of 
 any." 
 
 " No jesting ! The unhappy youth thinks of leaving his home, of 
 going upon the stage, of offering me his hand." 
 
 " Of empty hands we have already four." 
 
 " I have no choice," continued Mariana ; "do you decide for me ! 
 Cast me away to this side or that-; mark only one thing : 1 think I 
 carry in my bosom a pledge that ought to unite me with him still 
 more closely. Consider and determine : whom shall I forsake ? wliom 
 shall I follow?" 
 
 After a short silence, Barbara exclaimed : ' ' Strange, that youth 
 should always be for extremes ! To my view, nothing would be 
 easier than for us to combine both the profit and enjoyment. Do you 
 love the one, let the other pay for it : all we have to mind is being 
 sharp enough to keep the two from meeting." 
 
 " Do as you please ; I can imagine nothing, but I will follow." 
 
 " We have this advantage, we can humor the manager's caprice, 
 and pride about the morals of histroup. Both lovers are accustomed 
 already to go secretly and cunningly to work. For hours and oppor- 
 tunity I will take thought ; only henceforth you must play the part 
 that I prescribe to you. Who knows what circumstances may arise 
 to help us ? If Norberg Avould arrive even now, when Wilhelm is 
 away ! Who can hinder you from thinking of the one in the amis 
 of the other ? I wish you a son, and good fortune with him ; he will 
 have a rich father." 
 
 Tliese projects lightened Mariana's despondency only for a very 
 .short time. She could not bring her situation into hannony with her 
 feelings, with her convictions ; she would fain havB forgotten the 
 painful relations in which she stood, and a tlinusand little circum- 
 stances forced them back every moment to her recollection.
 
 BOOK I. CHAPTER XIII. 41 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 In tlie meantime, Wilhelm had completed the small preliminary 
 journey. His merchant being from home, he delivered the letter of 
 introduction to the mistress of the house. But neither did this lady 
 give him much furtherance in his purposes ; she was in a violent 
 passion, and her whole economy was in confusion. 
 
 He had not waited long till she disclosed to him, what in truth 
 could not be kept a secret, that her step-daughter had run off with a 
 player ; a person who had parted lately from a small strolling com- 
 pany, and had stayed in the place, and commenced teaching French. 
 The father, distracted with grief and vexation, had run to the Amt 
 to have the fugitives pursued. She blamed her daughter bitterly, 
 and vilified the lover, till she left no tolerable quality with either : 
 she deplored at great length the shame thus brought upon the family ; 
 embarrassing our hero not a little, who here felt his own private 
 scheme beforehand judged and punished, in the spirit of prophecy 
 as it were, by this frenzied sibyl. Still stronger and deeper was the 
 interest he took in the sorrows of the father, who now returned from 
 the Amt, and with fixed sorrow, in broken sentences, gi.ve an account 
 of the errand to his wife ; and strove to hide the embarrassment and 
 distraction of his mind, while, after looking at the letter, he directed 
 that the horse it spoke of should be given to Wilhelm. 
 
 Our friend thought it best to mount his steed immediately, and quit 
 a house, where in its present state he could not possibly be comfort- 
 able ; but the honest man would not allow the son of one to whom 
 he had so many obligations to depart without tasting of his hospi- 
 tality, without remaining at least a night beneath his roof. 
 
 Wilhelm assisted at a melancholy supper ; wore out a restless 
 night ; and hastened to get rid of these people, who, without knowing 
 it, had, by their narratives and condolences, been constantly wounding 
 him to the quick. 
 
 In a musing mood, he was riding slowly along, when all at once he 
 observed a number of armed men coming through the plain. By 
 their long loose coats, with enormous cuffs, by their shapeless hats, 
 clumsy muskets, by their slouching gait and lax attitude, he recog- 
 nized in these people a detachment of provincial militia. They halted 
 beneath an old oak ; set down their firearms ; and placed themselves 
 at their ease upon the sward to smoke a pipe of tobacco. Wilhelm 
 lingered near them, and entered into conversation with a young man 
 who came upon horseback. The history of the two runaways, which 
 he already knew too well, was again detailed to him ; and that with 
 comments, not particularly flattering either to the young pair them- 
 selves or to the parents. He learned also that the military were coiaie
 
 43 MEISTER' 8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 hither to take the loving couple into custody, who had already been 
 seized and detained in a neighboring village. After some time, 
 accordingly, a cart was seen advancing to the place, encircled with a 
 city-guard more ludicrous than appalling. An amorphous town- 
 clerk rode forth, and made his compliments to the Actuarius (for such 
 was the young man whom Wilhelm had been speaking to), on the 
 border of their several districts, with great conscientiousness and 
 wonderful grimaces ; as perhaps the ghost and. conjuror do, when 
 they meet, the one within the circle and the other out of it, in their 
 dismal midnight operations. 
 
 But the chief attention of the lookers-on was directed to the cart : 
 they could not behold without compassion the poor misguided crea- 
 tures, who were sitting upon bundles of straw, looking tenderly at 
 one another, and scarcely seeming to observe the bystanders. Acci- 
 dent had forced their conductors to bring them from the last village 
 in that unseemly style ; the old chaise, which had previously trans- 
 ported the lady, having there broken down. On that occurrence she 
 begged permission to sit beside her friend ; whom, in the conviction 
 that his crime was of a capital sort, the rustic bailiffs had brought 
 along so far in irons. These irons certainly contributed to give the 
 tender group a more Interesting appearance, particularly as the young 
 man moved and bore himself with great dignity, while he kissed 
 more than once the hands of his fair companion. 
 
 "We are unfortunate," she cried to the bystanders; "but not so 
 guilty as we seem. It is thus that savage men reward true love ; and 
 parents, who entirely neglect the happiness of their children, tear 
 them with fury from the arms of joy, when it has found them after 
 many weary days." 
 
 The spectators were expressing their sympathy in various ways, 
 when the officers of law having finished their ceremonial, the cart 
 went on, and Wilhelm, who took a deep interest in the fate of the 
 lovers, hastened forward by a footpath to get some acquaintance with 
 the Amtmann before the procession should arrive. But scarcely had 
 he reached the Amthaus, where all was in motion, and ready to re- 
 ceive the fugitives, when his new friend, the Actuarius, laid hold of 
 him ; and, giving him a circumstantial detail of the whole proceed- 
 ings, and then launching out into a comprehensive eulogy of his own 
 horse, which he had got last night by barter, put a stop to every 
 other sort of conversation. 
 
 The luckless pair, in the meantime, had been set down behind at 
 the garden, which communicated by a little door with the Amthaus, 
 and thus brought in unobserved. The Actuarius, for this mild and 
 handsome treatment, accepted of a just encomium from Wilhelm ; 
 though in truth his sole object had been to mortify the crowd collected 
 in front of the Amthaus, by denying them the satisfaction of looking 
 at a neighbor in his disgrace. 
 
 The Amtmann, who had no particular taste for such extraordinary
 
 BOOK I. CHAPTER XHI. 43 
 
 occurrences, being wont on tliese occasions to commit frequent errors, 
 and with the best intentions to be often paid with sour admonitions 
 from the higher powers, went with heavy steps into his office room, 
 the Actuarius with Wilhelm and a few respectable citizens following 
 him. 
 
 The lady was first produced ; she advanced without pertness, calm 
 and self-possessed. The manner of her dress, the way in which she 
 bore herself, showed that she was a person not without value in her 
 own eyes. She accordingly began, without any question being put, to 
 speak not unskillfully about lier situation. 
 
 The Actuarius bade her be silent, and held his pen over the folded 
 sheet. The Amtmann gathered up his resolution, looked at his assist- 
 ant, cleared his throat by two or three hems, and asked the poor girl 
 what was her name, and how old she was. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," said she, " but it seems very strange to me 
 that you ask my name and age ; seeing you know very well what my 
 name is, and that I am just the age of your oldest son. What you do 
 want to know of me, and need to know, I will tell freely without cir- 
 cumlocution : — Since my father's second marriage, my situation in his 
 house has not been of the most enviable sort. Oftener than once I 
 have had it in my power to make a suitable marriage, had not my 
 step-mother, dreading the expense of my portion, taken care to thwart 
 all such proposals. At length I grew acquainted with the young 
 Melina ; I felt constrained to love him ; and as both of us foresaw the 
 obstacles that stood in the way of our regular union, we determined 
 to go forth together, and seek in the wide world the happiness which 
 was denied us at home, I took nothing with me that was not my 
 own ; we did not run away like thieves and robbers, and my lover 
 does not merit to be hauled about in this way with chains and hand- 
 cuffs. The Prince is just, and will not sanction such severity. If we 
 are liable to punishment, it is not punishment of this kind." 
 
 The old Amtmann hereupon fell into double and treble confusion 
 Sounds of the most gracious eulogies were already humming through 
 his brain ; and the girl's voluble speech had entirely confounded the 
 plan of his protocol. The mischief increased, when to repeated 
 official questions she refused giving any answer, but constantly 
 referred to what she had already said. 
 
 " I am no criminal," she said. " They have brought me hither on 
 bundles of straw to put me to shame ; but there is a higher court 
 that will bring us back to honor." 
 
 The Actuarius, in tl\« meantime, had kept writing down her 
 words : he whispered the Amtmann, "just to go on ; a formal protocol 
 might be made out by and by." 
 
 The senior then again took heart ; and began, with his heavy 
 words, in dry prescribed formulas, to seek information about the 
 sweet secrets of love. 
 
 The red mounted into Wilhelm's cheeks, and those of the pretty
 
 44 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESSIP. 
 
 criminal likewise glowed with the charming tinge of modesty. She 
 was silent, she stammered, till at last her embarrassment itself 
 seemed to exalt her courage. 
 
 "Be assured," she cried, "that I should have strength enough to 
 confess the truth, though it made against myself : and shall I now 
 hesitate and stammer, when it does me honor 1 Yes, from the moment 
 when I first felt certain of his love and faith, I looked upon him as 
 my husband ; I freely gave him all that love requires, that a heart 
 once convinced cannot long refuse. Now do with 'me what you 
 please. If I hesitated for a moment to confess, it was owing to fear 
 alone lest the admission naight prove hurtful to my lover." 
 
 On hearing this confession, Wilhelm formed a high opinion of the 
 young woman's feelings ; while her judges marked her as an impu- 
 dent strumpet ; and the townsfolk present thanked God, that in their 
 families no such scandal had occurred, or at least been brought to 
 light. 
 
 Wilhelm transported his Mariana into this conjuncture, answering 
 at the bar ; he put still finer words in her mouth, making her 
 uprightness yet more affecting, her confession still nobler. The 
 most violent desire to help the two lovers took possession of him. 
 Nor did he conceal this feeling ; but signified in private to the wav- 
 ering Amtmann, that it were better to end the business, all being 
 clear as possible, and requiring no farther investigation. 
 
 This was so far of service that the young woman was allowed to 
 retire ; though, in her stead, the lover was brought in, his fetters 
 having previously been taken off him at the door. This person 
 seemed a little more concerned about his fate. His answers were 
 more careful ; and if he showed less heroic generosity, he recom- 
 mended himself by the precision and distinctness of his expressions. 
 
 When this audience also was finished, and found to agree in all 
 points with the former, except that from regard for his mistress, 
 Melina stubbornly denied what had already been confessed by herself 
 — the young woman was again brought forward ; and a scene took 
 place between the two, which made the heart of our friend entirely 
 their own. 
 
 What usually occurs nowhere but in romances and plays, he saw 
 here in a paltry court-room before his eyes ; the contest of reciprocal 
 magnanimity, the strength of love in misfortune. 
 
 "Is it, then, true," said he internally, "that timorous affection 
 which conceals itself from the eye of the sun and of men, not daring 
 to taste of enjoyment save in remote solitude and deep secrecy, yet, 
 if torn rudely by some cruel chance into light, will show itself more 
 courageous, strong and resolute, than any of our loud and ostenta- 
 tious passions? " 
 
 To lais comfort, the business now came to a conclusion. The lovers 
 were detained in tolerable quarters : had it been possible, he would 
 that very evening have brought back the young lady to her parents.
 
 BOOK L GSAPTm Xlt. 4S 
 
 For lie firmly determined to act as intercessor in this case, and to 
 forward a happy and lawful union between the lovers. 
 
 He begged permission of the Amtmann to speak in private with 
 Melina ; a request which was granted without difficulty. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The conversation of these new acquaintances very soon grew confi- 
 dential aud lively. When Wilhelm told the downcast youth of his 
 connection with the lady's parents, and offered to mediate in the 
 affair, showing at the same time the strongest expectation of success, 
 a light was shed across the dreary aud anxious mind of the prisoner ; 
 he felt himself already free, already reconciled with the parents of 
 his bride ; and now began to speak about his future occupation and 
 support. 
 
 " On this point," said our friend, " you cannot long be in diflSculty ; 
 for you seem to me directed, not more by your circumstances than by 
 nature, to make your fortune in the noble profession you have chosen. 
 A pleasing figure, a sonorous voice, a feeling heart ! Could an actor 
 be better furnished ? If I can serve you with a few introductions, it 
 will give me the greatest pleasure." 
 
 " I thank you with all my heart," replied the other ; " but I shall 
 hardly be able to make use of them ; for it is my purpose, if possible, 
 not to return to the stage." 
 
 " Here you are certainly to blame," said Wilhelm, after a pause, 
 during which he had partly recovered out of his astonishment ; for it 
 had never once entered his head, but that the player, the moment his 
 young wife and he were out of durance, would repair to some theater. 
 It seemed to him as natural and as necessary as for the frog to seek 
 pools of water. He had not doubted of it for a moment ; and he now 
 heard the contrary with boundless surprise. 
 
 "Yes," replied Melina, "I have it in view not to reappear upon 
 the stage ; but rather to take up some civil calling, be it what it will, 
 so that I can but obtain one. " 
 
 " That is a strange resolution, which I cannot give my approbation 
 to. Without especial reasons, it can never be advisable to change 
 the mode of life we have begun with ; and, besides, I know of no 
 condition that presents so much allurement, so many charming pros- 
 pects, as the condition of an actor." 
 
 " It is easy to see that you have never been one," said the other. 
 
 "Alas, sir," answered Wilhelm, "how seldom is any man con- 
 tented with the station where he happens to be placed ! He is ever 
 coveting that of his neighbor, from which the neighbor in his turn is 
 longing to be free. "
 
 46 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 "Yet still there is a difference," said Melina, " between bad and 
 worse. Experience, not impatience, makes me determine as you see. 
 Is there in the world any creature whose morsel of bread is attended 
 with such vexation, uncertainty and toil 1 It were almost as good to 
 take the staff and wallet, and beg from door to door. What things 
 to be endured from the envy of rivals, from the partiality of mana- 
 gers, from the ever-altering caprices of the public ! In truth, one 
 would need to have a hide like a bear's, that is led about in a chain 
 along with apes and dogs of knowledge, and cudgeled into dancing 
 at the sound of a bagpipe before the populace and children." 
 
 Wilhelm thought a thousand things, which he would not vex the 
 worthy man by uttering. He merely, therefore, led the conversation 
 round them at a distance. His friend explained himself the more 
 candidly and circumstantially on that account. " Is not the manager 
 obliged," said he, " to fall down at the feet of eA^ery little stadtrath, 
 that he may get permission, for a month between the fairs, to cause 
 another groschen or two to circulate in the place ? Ours, on the whole 
 a worthy man, I have often pitied ; though at other times he gave 
 me caiTse enough for discontentment. A good actor drains him by ex- 
 tortion ; of the bad he cannot rid himself ; and, should he try to make 
 his income at all equal to his outlay, the public immediately takes 
 umbrage, the house stands empty ; and, not to go to wreck entirely, 
 he must continue acting in the midst of sorrow and vexation. No, 
 no, sir ! Since you are so good as to undertake to help me, have the 
 kindness, I entreat you, to plead with the parents of my bride ; let 
 them get me a little post of clerk or collector, and I shall think my- 
 self well dealt with."' 
 
 After exchanging a few words more, Wilhelm went away with the 
 promise to visit the parents early in the morning, and see what could 
 be done. Scarcely was he by liimself, when he gave utterance to his 
 thoughts in these exclamations : " Unhappy Melina ! not in thy con- 
 dition, but in thyself lies the mean impediment over which thou canst 
 not gain the mastery. What mortal in the world, if without inward 
 calling he take up a trade, an art, or any mode of life, will not feel his 
 situation miserable ? But he who is born with capacities for any un- 
 dertaking, finds in executing this the fairest portion of his being. 
 Nothing upon earth without its difficulties ! It is the secret impulse 
 within ; it is the love and the delight we feel, that help us to con- 
 quer obstacles, to clear out new paths, and to overleap the bounds of 
 that narrow circle in which others poorly toil. For thee the stage is 
 but a few boards ; the parts assigned thee are but what a task is to a 
 schoolboy. The spectators thou regardest as on work-days they regard 
 each other. For thee, then, it may be well to wisli thyself behind a 
 desk, over ruled ledgers, collecting tolls, and picking out reversions. 
 Thou feelest not the co-operating, co-inspiring whole, which the 
 mind alone can invent, comprehend and complete ; thou feelest not 
 that in man there lives a spark of purer fire, which, wlien it is not
 
 BOOK I. GHAPTER XIV. 47 
 
 fed, when it is not fanned, gets covered by the ashes of indiflEerence 
 and daily wants ; yet not till late, perhaps never, can be altogether 
 quenched. Thou feelest in thy soul no strength to fan this spark into 
 a flame, no riches in thy heart to feed it when aroused. Hunger 
 drives thee on, inconveniencies withstand thee ; and it is hidden from 
 thee, that, in every human condition, foes lie in wait for us, invinci- 
 ble.except by cheerfulness and equanimity. Thou dost well to wish 
 thyself within the limits of a common station ; for what station that 
 required soul and resolution couldst thou rightly fill ! Give a soldier, 
 a statesman, a divine thy sentiments, and as justly will he fret him- 
 js&.i about the miseries of his condition. Xay, have there not been 
 / men so totally forsaken by all feeling of existence; that they have 
 / held the life and nature of mortals as a nothing, a painful, short and 
 V tarnished gleam of being? Did the forms of active men rise up liv- 
 ing in thy soul ; were thy breast warmed by a sympathetic fire ; did 
 the vocation which proceeds from within diffuse itself over all thy 
 frame ; were the tones of thy voice, the words of thy mouth, delight- 
 ful to hear ; didst thou feel thy own being sufficient for thyself, — ^ 
 then wouldst thou doubtless seek place and opportunity likewise tg( 
 feel it in others." 
 
 Amid such words and thoughts, our friend undressed himself, and 
 went to bed, with feelings of the deepest satisfaction. A whole ro- 
 mance of what he now hoped to do, instead of the worthless occupa- 
 tions which should have filled the approaching day, arose within his 
 mind ; pleasant fantasies softly conducted him into the kingdom of 
 sleep, and then gave him up to their sisters, sweet dreams, who re- 
 ceived him with open arms, and encircled his reposing head with the 
 images of heaven. 
 
 Early in the morning he was awake again, and thinking of the 
 business that lay before him. He revisited the house of the forsaken 
 family, where his presence caused no small surprise. He introduced 
 his proposal in the most prudent manner, and soon found both more 
 and fewer difficulties than he had anticipated. For one thing, the 
 evil was already done ; and though people of a singularly strict and 
 harsh temper are wont to set themselves forcibly against the past, 
 and thus to increase the evil that cannot now be remedied ; yet, on 
 the other hand, what is actually done exerts a resistless effect upon 
 most minds ; an event which lately appeared impossible takes its 
 £l.ace, so soon as it has really occurred, with what occurs daily. It 
 was accordingly soon settled, that Herr Melina was to wed the daugh- 
 ter ; who, however, in return, because of her misconduct, was to 
 take no marriage portion with her, and to promise that she would 
 leave her aunt's legacy, for a few years more, at an easy interest, in 
 her father's hands. But the second point, touching a civil provision 
 for Melina, was attended with greater difficulties. They liked not 
 to have the luckless pair continually living in their sight ; they 
 would not have a present object ever calling to their minds the con-
 
 48 MEI8TER 'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 nection of a mean vagabond witli so respectable a family, a family 
 which could number even a superintendent among its relatives ; nay, 
 it was not to be looked for, that the government would trust him 
 with a charge. Both parents were alike inflexible in this matter ; 
 and Wilhelm, who pleaded very hard, unwilling that a man whom 
 he contemned should return to the stage, and convinced that he de- 
 served not such a happiness, could not, with all his rhetoric, produce 
 the slenderest impression. Plad he known the secret springs of the 
 business, he would have spared himself the labor of attempting to 
 persuade. The father would gladly have kept his daughter near 
 him, but he hated the young man, because his wife herself had cast 
 an eye upon him ; while the latter could not bear to have, in her 
 step-daughter, a happy rival constantly before her eyes. So Melina, 
 with his young wife, who already manifested no dislike to go out 
 and see the world, and be seen of it, was obliged, against his will, to 
 set forth in a few days, and seek some place in any acting corapan j 
 where he could find one. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Happy season of youth ! Happy times of the first wish of love ! 
 A man is then like a child, that can for hours delight itself with an 
 echo, can support alone the charges of conversation, and be well con- 
 tented with its entertainment, if the unseen interlocutor will but re- 
 peat the concluding syllables of the words addressed to it. 
 
 So was it with Wilhelm in the earlier and still more in the later 
 period of his passion for Mariana : he transferred the whole wealth 
 of his own emotions to her, and looked upon himself as a beggar that 
 lived upon her alms ; and as a landscape is more delightful, nay is 
 delightful only, when it is enlightened by the sun, so likewise in his 
 eyes were all things beautified and glorified which lay round her or 
 related to her. 
 
 Often would he stand in the theater behind the scenes, to which 
 he had obtained the freedom of access from the manager. In such 
 cases, it is true, the perspective magic was away ; but the far mightier 
 sorcery of love then first began to act. For hours he could stand by 
 the sooty light-frame, inhaling the vapor of tallow lamps, looking 
 out at his mistress ; and when she returned and cast a kindly glance 
 upon him, he could feel himself lost in ecstasy, and though close upon 
 laths and bare spars, he seemed transported into paradise. The 
 stuffed bunches of wool denominated lambs, the waterfalls of tin, the 
 paper roses and the one-sided huts of straw, awoke in him fair poetic 
 visions of an old pastoral world. Nay, the very dancing-girls, ugly 
 as they were when seen at hand, did not always inspire him with dis- 
 gust ; they trod the same floor witli Mariana, So true is it, that love,
 
 BOOK I. CHAPTER XV. 49 
 
 which alone can give their full charm to rose-bowers, myrtle-groves 
 and moonshine, can also communicate, even to shavings of wood and 
 paper-clippings, the aspect of animated nature. It is so strong a 
 spice, that tasteless, or even nauseous soups are by it rendered pal- 
 atable. 
 
 So potent a spice was certainly required to render tolerable, nay at 
 last agreeable, the state in which he usually found her chamber, not 
 to say herself. 
 
 . Brought up in a substantial burgher's house, cleanliness and order 
 were the element in which he breathed ; and inberiting as he did a 
 portion of his father's taste for finery, it had always been his care, iu 
 boyhood, to furbish up his chamber, which he regarded as his little 
 kingdom, in the stateliest fashion. His bed-curtains were drawn 
 together in large massy folds, aud fastened with tassels, as they are 
 usually seen in thrones : he had got himself a carpet for the middle 
 of his chamber, aud a finer one for his table ; his books aud appa- 
 ratus he had, almost instinctively, arranged in such a manner, that a 
 Dutch painter might have imitated them for groups in his still -life 
 scenes. He had a white cap, which he wore straight up like a tur- 
 ban ; and the sleeves of his nightgown he had caused to be cut short, 
 in the mode of the Orientals. By way of reason for this, he pretended 
 that long wide sleeves encumbered him in writing. AVhen, at night, 
 the boy was quite aione, and no longer dreaded any interruption, he 
 usually wore a silk sash tied round his body, and often, it is said, he 
 would fix in his girdle a sword, which he had appropriated from an 
 old armory, and thus repeat aud declaim his tragic parts ; nay, in the 
 same trim he would kneel down and say his evening prayer. 
 
 In those times, how happy did he think the players, whom he saw 
 possessed of so many splendid garments, trappings and arms ; and in 
 the constant practice of a lofty demeanor, the spirit of which seemed 
 to hold up a mirror of whatever, in the opinions, relations and pas- 
 sions of men, was stateliest and most magnificent. Of a piece with 
 this, thought Wilhe1m,is also the player's domestic life ; a series of 
 dignified transactions and employments, whereof their appearance on 
 the stage is but the outmost portion ; like as a mass of silver, long 
 simmering about in the purifying furnace, at length gleams with a 
 bright and beautiful tinge in the eye of the refiner, and shows him, 
 at the same time, that the metal now is cleansed of all foreign mix- 
 ture. 
 
 Great accordingly, was his surprise at first, when he found himself 
 beside his mistress, and looked down, through the cloud that en- 
 vironed him, on tables, stools and fioor. The wrecks of a transient, 
 light and false decoration lay, like the glittering coat of a skinned 
 fish, dispersed in wild disorder. The implements of personal clean- 
 liness, combs, soap, towels, with the traces of their use, were not con- 
 cealed. Music, portions of plays, pairs of shoes, washes and Italian 
 flowers, pincushions, hair-skewers, rouge-pots and ribbons, books and
 
 50 MEISTEB'8 APPRENTIVE8H1P. 
 
 straw-hats ; no article despised the neighborhood of another ; all were 
 united by a common element, powder and dust. Yet as Wilhelm 
 scarcely noticed in her presence aught except herself ; nay, as all that 
 had belonged to her, that she had touched, was dear to him, he came 
 at last to feel, in this chaotic housekeeping, a charm which the proud 
 pomp of his own habitation never had communicated. When, on 
 this hand, he lifted aside her bodice, to get at the harpsichord ; on 
 that, threw her gown upon the bed, that he might find a seat ; when 
 she herself, with careless freedom, did not seek to hide from hiiu 
 many a natural office, which, out of respect for the presence of a 
 second person, is usually concealed ; he felt as if by all this he was 
 coming nearer to her every moment, as if the communion betwixt 
 them was fastening by invisible ties. 
 
 It was not so easy to reconcile with his previous ideas the behavior 
 of the other players, whom, on his first \'isits, he often met with in 
 her house. Ever busied in being idle, they seemed to think least of 
 all on their employment and object ; the poetic worth of a piece they 
 were never heard to speak of, or to judge of, right or wrong ; their 
 continual question was simply : How much will it bring? Is it a 
 stock- piece? How long will it run? How often think you it may 
 be played ? and other inquiries and observations of the same descrip- 
 tion. Then commonly they broke out against the manager, that he 
 was stinted wth his salaries, and especially unjust to this one or that ; 
 then against the public, how seldom it recompensed the right man 
 with its approval, how the German theater was daily improving, how 
 the player was ever growing more honored, and never could be hon- 
 ored enough. Then they would descant largely about wine gardens 
 and coffee-houses ; how much debt one of their comrades had con.- 
 tracted, and must suffer a deduction from his wages on account of ; 
 about the disproportion of their weekly salaries ; about the cabals of 
 some rival company : on which occasion they would pass again to the 
 great and merited attention which the public now bestowed upon 
 them ; not forgetting the importance of the theater to the improve- 
 ment of the nation and the world. 
 
 All this, which had already given Wilhelm many a restless hour, 
 came again into his memory, as he walked his horse slowly home- 
 wards, and contemplated the various occurrences in which he had so 
 lately been engaged. The commotion produced by a girl's elopement, 
 not only in a decent family, but in a whole town, he had seen with his 
 own eyes ; the scenes upon the highway and in the Amthaus, the 
 views entertained by Melina, and whatever else he had witnessed, 
 again arose before him, and brought his keen forecasting mind into a 
 sort of anxious disquietude ; which no longer to endure, he struck the 
 spurs into his horse, and hastened towards home. 
 
 By this expedient, however, he but ran to meet new vexations. 
 Werner, his friend and future brother-in-law, was waiting for him, to 
 begin a serious, important, unexpected conversation.
 
 BOOK I. CHAPTER XV. 51 
 
 Werner was one of those tried sedate persons, with fixed princi])les 
 and habits, whom we usually denominate cold characters, because on 
 emergencies they do not burst forth quickly or very visibly. Accord- 
 ingly, his intercourse with Wilhelm was a perpetual contest ; which, 
 however, only served to knit their mutual affection the more firmly ; 
 for, notwithstanding their very opposite modes of thinking, each found 
 his account in communicating with the other. Werner was very well 
 contented with himself, that he could now and then lay a bridle on 
 the exalted but commonly extravagant spirit of his friend ; and Wil- 
 helm often felt a glorious triumph, when the staid and thinking Wer- 
 ner could be hurried on with him in warm ebullience. Thus each ex- 
 ercised himself upon the other ; they had been accustomed to see each 
 other daily ; and you Avould have said, their eagerness to meet and 
 talk together had even been augmented by the inability of each to 
 understand the other. At bottom, liowever, being both good-hearted 
 men, they were both traveling together towards one goal ; and they 
 could never understand liow it was that neither of the two could 
 bring the other over to his own persuasion. 
 
 For some time, Werner had observed that Wilhelm's visits had been 
 rarer ; that in liis favorite discussions he was brief and absent-minded; 
 that he no longer abandoned himself to the vivid depicting of singular 
 conceptions ; tokens by which, in truth, a mind getting rest and con- 
 tentment in the presence of a friend, is most clearly indicated. The 
 considerate and punctual Werner first sought for the root of the evil 
 in his own conduct ; till some rumors of the neighborhood set him 
 on the proper trace, and some unguarded proceedings on the part of 
 Wilhelm brovight him nearer to the certainty. He began his inves- 
 tigation ; and ere long discovered, that for some time Wilhelm had 
 been openly visiting an actress, had often spoken with her at the 
 theater, and accompanied her home. On discovering the nightly 
 visits of his friend, Werner's anxiety increased to a painful extent ; 
 for he heard that Mariana was a most seductive girl, who probably 
 was draining the youth of his money, while, at the same time, she 
 herself was supported by another and a very worthless lover. 
 
 Having pushed his suspicions as near certainty as possible, he had 
 resolved to make a sharp attack on Wilhelm : he was now in full 
 readiness with all liis preparations, when his friend returned, discon- 
 tented and unsettled, from his journey. 
 
 That veryjevening, Werner laid the whole of what he knew before 
 him, first calmly, then with the emphatic earnestness of a well-mean- 
 ing friendship. He left no point of the subject undiscussed ; and 
 made Wilhelm taste abundance of those bitter things, which men at 
 ea,se are accustomed, with virtuous spite, to dispense so liberally to 
 men in love. Yet, as might have been expected, he accomplished 
 little. Wilhelm answered with interior commotion, though with 
 great confidence : "You know not the girl I Appearances, perhaps, 
 are not to her advantage ; but I am certain of her faithfulness and 
 virtue, as of my love."
 
 62 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 Werner maintained liis accusations, and oflfered to bring proofs and 
 witnesses. Wilhelm waved these offers, and parted witli his friend 
 out of humor and unhinged ; like a man in whose jaw some unskillful 
 dentist has been seizing a diseased yet fast-rooted tooth, and tugging 
 at it harshly to no purpose. 
 
 It exceedingly dissatisfied Wilhelm to see the fair image of Mariana 
 overclouded and almost deformed in his soul, first by the capricious 
 fancies of his journey, and then by the unfriendliness of Werner. 
 He adopted the surest means of restoring it to complete brilliancy and 
 beauty, by setting out at night, and hastening to his wonted destina- 
 tion. She received him with extreme joy : on entering the town, he 
 had ridden past her window ; she had been expecting his company ; 
 and it is easy to conceive that all scruples were soon driven from his 
 heart. Nay, her tenderness again o])ened up the Avhole stores of his 
 confidence ; and he told her how deeply the public, how deeply his 
 friend, had sinned against her. , 
 
 Much lively talking led them at length to speak about the earliest 
 period of their acquaintance ; the recollection of which forms always 
 one of the most delightful topics between two lovers. The first steps 
 that introduce us to the enchanted garden of love are so full of pleas- 
 ure, the first prospects so charming, that every one is willing to recall 
 them to his memory. Each party seeks a preference above the other • 
 each has loved sooner, more devotedly ; and each, in this contest, 
 would rather be conquered than conquer. 
 
 Wilhelm repeated to his mistress, what he had so often told her 
 before, how she soon abstracted his attention from the play, and fixed 
 it on herself ; how her form, her acting, her voice inspired him ; how 
 at last he went only on the nights when site was to appear ; how, in 
 fine, having ventured behind the scenes, he had often stood by her 
 unheeded ; and he spoke with rapture of the happy evening when he 
 found an opportunity to do her some civility, and lead her into con- 
 versation. 
 
 Mariana, on the other hand, would not allow that she had failed so 
 long to notice him ; she declared that she had seen him in the public 
 walk, and for proof she described the clothes which he wore on that 
 occasion ; she affirmed that even then he pleased her before all others, 
 and made her long for his acqtiaintance. 
 
 How gladly did Wilhelm credit all this 1 How gladly did he catch 
 at the persuasion, that when he used to approach her, she had felt 
 herself drawn towards him by some resistless influence ; that she had 
 gone with him between the side-scenes, on purpose to see him more 
 closely, and get acquainted with him ; and that, in fine, when his 
 backwardness and modesty were not to be conquered, she had herself 
 afforded him an opportunity, and, as it were, compelled him to hand 
 her a glass of lemonade ! 
 
 In this affectionate contest, which they pursued through all the 
 little circumstances of their brief romance, the hours passed rapidly
 
 BOOK I. CHAPTER XVI. 53 
 
 away ; and Wilhelm left liis mistress, with his heart at peace, and 
 firmly determined on proceeding forthwith to the execution of his 
 project. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 The necessary preparations for his journey his father and mother 
 had attended to ; some little matters, that were yet wanting to his 
 equipage, delayed his departure for a few days. Wilhelm took 
 advantage of this opportunity to write to Mariana, meaning thus to 
 bring to a decision the proposal, about which she had hitherto 
 avoided speaking with him. The letter was as follows : 
 
 " Under the kind veil of night, which has often overshadowed us 
 together, I sit and think, and write to thee ; all that I meditate and 
 do is solely on thy account. O Mariana ! with me, the happiest of 
 men, it is as with a bridegroom who stands in the festive chamber, 
 dreaming of the new universe that is to be unfolded to him, and by 
 means of him, and, while the holy ceremonies are proceeding, trans- 
 ports himself in longing thought before the mysterious curtains, 
 from which the loveliness of love whispers out to him. 
 
 " I have constrained myself not to see thee for a few days ; the 
 sacrifice was easy, when united with the hope of such a recompense, 
 of being always with thee, of remaining ever thine ! Need I repeat 
 what I desire ? I must ; for it seems as if yet thou hadst never 
 understood me. 
 
 " How often, in the low tones of true love, which, though wishing 
 to gain all, dares speak but little, have I sought in thy heart for the 
 desire of a perpetual union. Thou hast understood me, doubtless ; 
 for in thy own heart the same wish must have arisen ; thou didst 
 comprehend me, in that kiss, in the intoxicating peace of that happy 
 evening. Thy silence testified to me thy modest honor ; and how 
 did it increase my love ! Another woman would have had recourse 
 to artifice, that she might ripen by superfluous sunshine the pur- 
 pose of her lover's heart, might elicit a proposal, and secure a firm 
 promise. Mariana, on the contrary, drew back ; she repelled the 
 half-opened confidence of him she loved, and sought to conceal her 
 approving feelings by apparent indifference. But I have imderstood 
 thee ! What a miserable creature must I be, if I did not by these 
 tokens recognize the pure and generous love that cares not for itself, 
 but for its object ! Confide in me, and fear nothing. We belong to 
 one another ; and neither of us leaves aught or forsakes aught, if we 
 live for one another. 
 
 " Take it, then, this hand ! Solemnly I offer this unnecessary 
 pledge ! All the joys of love we have already felt ; but there is a 
 new blessedness in the firm thought of duration. Ask not how ;
 
 54 MEISTER'S APPRENTICE8SIP. 
 
 care not. Fate takes care of love, and tlae more certainly as love is 
 easy to provide for. 
 
 " My heart has long ago forsaken my paternal home ; it is with 
 thee, as my spirit hovers on the stage. my darling ! to what other 
 man has it been given to unite all his wishes, as it is to me ? No 
 sleep falls on my eyes ; like the brightness of a perpetual dawn, thy 
 love and thy happiness still glow around me. 
 
 " Scarcely can I hold myself from springing up, from rushing 
 forth to thee, and forcing thy consent, and, with the first light of 
 to-morrow, pressing forward into the world for the mark I aim at. 
 But no ! I will restrain myself ; I will not act like a thoughtless 
 fool : will do nothing rashly ; my plan is laid, and I will execute it 
 calmly. 
 
 " I am acquainted with the manager Serlo ; my journey leads me 
 directly to the place where he is. For above a year he has frequently 
 been wishing that his people had a touch of my vivacity, and my 
 delight in theatrical affairs ; I shall doubtless be very kindly received. 
 Into your company I cannot enter, for more than one reason. Serlo's 
 theater, moreover, is at such a distance from this, that I may there 
 begin my undertaking without any apprehension of discovery. With 
 him I sliall thus at once find a tolerable maintenance ; I shall look 
 about me in the public, get acquainted with the company, and then 
 come back for thee. 
 
 " Mariana, thou seest what I can force myself to do, that I may 
 certainly obtain tliee. For such a period not to see thee ; for such a 
 period to know thee in the wide world ! I dare not view it closely. 
 But yet if I recall to memory thy love, which assures me of all ; if 
 thou shalt not disdain my prayer, aud give me, ere we part., thy hand 
 before the priest ; I may then depart in peace. It is but a fonn be- 
 tween tis, yet a form so touching ; the blessing of heaven to the 
 blessing of the earth. Close by thy house, in the Ritterschaft chapel, 
 the ceremony will be soon and secretly performed. " 
 
 " For the beginning I have gold enough ; we will share it between 
 us ; it will suffice for both ; and before that is finished. Heaven wiH 
 send us more. 
 
 " No, my darling, I am not downcast about the issue. What is 
 begun with so much cheerfulness must reach a happy end. I have 
 never doubted that a man may force his way through the world if he 
 really is in earnest about it ; and I feel strength enough within me to 
 provide a liberal support for two, and many more. The world, we 
 are often told, is unthankful ; I have never yet discovered that it was 
 unthankful, if one knew how, in the proper way, to do it service. 
 My whole soul burns at the idea that / shall at length step forth and 
 speak to the liearts of men something they have long been yearning 
 to hear. How many thousand times has a feeling of disgust passed 
 through me, alive as I am to the nobleness of the stage, when I have 
 seen the poorest creatures fancying they could speak a word of power
 
 BOOK I. CHAPTER XV H. 55 
 
 to the hearts of the people ! The tone of a man's voice singing treble 
 sounds far pleasanter and. purer to my ear : it is incredible how these 
 blockheads, in their coarse ineptitude, deform things beautiful and 
 venerable. 
 
 " The theater has often been at variance with the pulpit ; they 
 ought not, I think, to quarrel. How much is it to be wished that in 
 both the celebration of nature and of God were intrusted to none but 
 men of noble minds ! These are no dreams, my darling ! As I have 
 felt in thy heart that thou couldst love, I seize the dazzling thought, 
 and say — no, I will not say, but I will hope and trust — that we two 
 shall yet appear to men as a pair of chosen spirits, to unlock their 
 hearts, to touch the recesses of their nature, and prepare for them 
 celestial joys, as surely as the joys I have tasted with thee deserved 
 to be named celestial, since they drew us from ourselves, and exalted 
 us above ourselves. 
 
 ' ' I cannot end. I have already said too much ; and know not 
 whether I have yet said all, all that concerns thy interests ; for to ex- 
 press the agitations of the vortex that whirls round within myself is 
 beyond the power of words. 
 
 " Yet take this sheet, my love ! I have again read it over ; I ob- 
 serve it ought to have begun more cautiously ; but it contains in it 
 all that thou hast need to know ; enough to prepare thee for the hour 
 when I shall return with the lightness of love to thy bosom. I seem 
 to myself like a prisoner that is secretly filing his irons asunder. I 
 bid good-night to my soundly-sleeping parents. Farewell, my be- 
 loved, farewell ! For this time I conclude ; my eyelids have more 
 than once dropped together ; it is now deep in the night." 
 
 CHAPTER XVIL 
 
 It seemed as if the day would never end, while Wilhelm, Avith the 
 xctter beautifully folded in his pocket, longed to meet with Mariana. 
 The darkness had scarcely come on when, contrary to custom, he 
 glided forth to her house. His plan was to announce himself for the 
 night ; then to quit his mistress for a short time, leaving the letter 
 with her ere he v/ent away, and, returning at a late hour, to obtain 
 her reply, her consent, or to force it from her by the power of his 
 caresses. He flew into her arms, and pressed her in rapture to his 
 bosom. The vehemence of his emotions prevented him at first from 
 noticing that, on this occasion, she did not receive him with her 
 wonted heartiness ; yet she could not long conceal her painful situa- 
 tion, but imputed it to slight indisposition. She complained of a 
 headache, and would not by any means consent to his proposal of 
 coming back that night. Suspecting nothing wrong, he ceased to
 
 56 MEISTEB' 8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 urge her ; but felt that this was not the moment for delivering his 
 letter. He retained it therefore ; and as several of her movements 
 and observations courteously compelled him to take his leave, in the 
 tumult of insatiable love he snatched up one of her neckerchiefs, 
 squeezed it into his pocket, and forced himself away from her lips 
 and her door. He returned home, but could not rest there ; he again 
 dressed himself, and went out into the open air. 
 
 After walking up and down several streets, he was accosted by a 
 stranger inquiring for a certain inn. Wilhelm offered to conduct him 
 to the house In the way, his new acquaintance asked about the 
 names of the streets, the owners of various extensive edifices, then 
 about some police regulations of the town ; so that by the time they 
 reached the door of the inn, they had fallen into quite an interesting 
 conversation. The stranger compelled his guide to enter, and drink a 
 glass of punch with him. Ere long he had told his name and place 
 of abode, as well as the business that had brought him hither ; and 
 he seemed to expect a like confidence from Wilhelm. Our friend, 
 without any hesitation, mentioned his name and the place where he 
 lived. 
 
 ' ' Are not you a grandson of the old Meister, who possessed that 
 beautiful collection of pictures and statues ? " inquired the stranger. 
 
 " Yes, I am. I was ten years old when my grandfather died, and 
 it grieved me very much to see those fine things sold." 
 
 " Your father got a fine sum of money for them." 
 
 " You know of it, tiien ? " 
 
 " yes ; I saw that treasure ere it left your house. Your grand- 
 father was not merely a collector, he hatl a thorough knowledge of 
 art. In his younger happy years he had been in Italy ; and had 
 brought back with him such treasures as could not now be got for any 
 price. He possessed some exquisite pictures by the best masters. 
 When you looked through his drawings, you would scarcely have 
 believed your eyes. Among his marbles were some invaluable frag- 
 ments : his series of bronzes was instructive and well chosen ; he had 
 also collected medals, in considerable quantity, relating to history and 
 art ; his few gems deserved the greatest praise. In addition to all 
 which, the whole was tastefully arranged, although the rooms and 
 hall of the old house had not been symmetrically built." 
 
 " You may conceive," said Wilhelm, " what we young ones lost, 
 when all these articles were taken down and sent away. It was the 
 first mournful period of my life. I cannot tell you how empty the 
 chambers looked, as we saw those objects vanishing one by one, which 
 had amused us from our earliest years, and which we considered 
 equally unalterable with the house or the town itself." 
 
 " If I mistake not, your father put the capital produced by the sale 
 into some neighbor's stock, with whom he commenced a sort of part- 
 nership in trade." 
 
 " Quite right ; and their joint speculations have prospered in their
 
 BOOK I. CHAPTER XVII. ^1 
 
 hands. Within the last twelve years, they have greatly increased, 
 their fortunes, and are now the more vehemeiitly_bent_on gaining.' 
 Old Werner also has a son, who suits tTiaTsort of occupation much 
 better than I." 
 
 "I am sorry the place should have lost such an ornament to it as 
 your grandfather's cabinet was. I saw it but a short time prior to 
 the sale : and I may say, I was myself the cause of its being then dis- 
 posed of. A rich noblemen, a great amateur, but one who, in such 
 important transactions, does not trust to his own solitary judgment, 
 liad sent me hither, and requested my advice. For six days 1 exam- 
 ined the collection ; on the seventh, I advised my friend to pay down 
 the required sum without delay. You were then a lively boy, often 
 running about me ; you explained to me the subjects of the pictures ; 
 and in general, I recollect, could give a very good account of the whole 
 cabinet." 
 
 " I remember such a person ; but I should not have recognized him 
 in you." 
 
 " It is a good while ago, and we all change more or less. You had, 
 if I mistake not, a favorite piece among them, to which you were ever 
 calling my attention." 
 
 "O yes ; it represented the history of that king's son dying of a 
 secret love for his father's bride." 
 
 " It was not, certainly, the best picture ; badly grouped, of no 
 superiority in coloring, and executed altogether with great manner- 
 ism." 
 
 " This I did not understand, and do not yet ; it is the subject that 
 charms me in a picture, not the art. " 
 
 " Your grandfather seemed to have thought otherwise. The greater 
 part of his collection consisted of excellent pieces ; in which, represent 
 what they might, one constantly admired the talent of the master. 
 This picture of yours had accordingly been hung in the outermost 
 room, a proof that he valued it slightly." 
 
 " It was in that room where we young ones used to play, and where 
 the piece you mention made on me a deep impression ; which not 
 even your criticism, greatly as I honor it, could obliterate, if we stood 
 before the picture at this moment. What a melancholy object is a 
 youth that must shut up within himself the sweet impulse, the fairest 
 inheritance which nature has given us, and conceal in his osvn bosom 
 the fire which should warm and animate himself and others, so that 
 his vitals are wasted away by unutterable pains ! I feel a pity for 
 the ill-fated man that would consecrate himself to another, when the 
 heart of that other has ah'eady found a worthy object of true and 
 pure affection." 
 
 "Such feelings are, however, very foreign to the principles by 
 which a lover of art examines the works of great painters ; and most 
 probably you, too, had the cabinet continued in your family, would 
 by and by have acquired a relish for the works themselves ; and have
 
 V 
 
 58 MEISTEB'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 learned to see in the performances of art something more than your- 
 self and your individual inclinations." 
 
 "^n truth, the sale of that cabinet grieved me very much at the 
 time ; and often since I have thought of it with regret ; but, when I 
 consider that it was a necessary means of awakening a taste in me, 
 of developing a talent, which will operate far more powerfully on 
 my history than ever those lifeless pictures could have done, I easily 
 content myself, and honor destiny, which knows how to bring about 
 what is best for me, and what is best for every one." 
 
 "It gives me pain to hear this word destiny in the mouth of a 
 
 young person, just at the age when men are commonly accustomed 
 
 to ascribe their own violent inclinations to the will of higher natures." 
 
 "Do you, then, believe in no destiny? No power that rules over 
 
 us, and directs all for our ultimate advantage ? " 
 
 ' ' Th e question is not now of my belief ; nor is this the place to' 
 explain how I may have attempted to form for myself some not/ 
 impossible conception of things which are incomprehensible to all of 
 lis: the question here is : What mode of viewing them willjjrofit us 
 the most? The fabric of oiir life is formed of necessity and chance ; 
 the reason of man takes its station between them, and may rule them 
 ] both : it treats the necessary as the groundwork of its being ; the 
 1 accidental it can direct and guide and employ for its own purposes ; 
 i and only while this principle of reason stands firm and inexpugna- 
 ble, does man deserve to be named the god of this lower world. But 
 woe to him who, from his youth, has used himself to search in neces- 
 sity for something of arbitrary will ; to ascribe to chance a sort of 
 reason, which it is a matter of religion to obey ! Is conduct like this 
 aught else than to renounce one's understanding, and give unre- 
 stricted scope to one's inclinations? We think it is a kind of piety 
 to move along without consideration ; to let accidents that please us 
 determine our conduct ; and finally, to bestow on the result of such a 
 vacillating life the name of providential guidance." 
 
 " Was it never your case that some little circumstance induced you 
 to strike into a certain path, where some accidental occurrence ere 
 long met you, and a series of unexpected incidents at length brought 
 you to some point which you yourself had scarcely once contem- 
 plated? Should not lessons of this kind teach us obedience to des- 
 tiny, confidence in some such guide?" 
 
 " With opinions like these, no woman could maintain her virtue, 
 no man could keep the money in his purse ; for occasions enough are 
 occurring to get rid of both. He alone is worthy of respect, who \ 
 ' knows what is of use to himself and others, and who labors to con- 
 trol his self-will. Each man has his own fortune in his hands ; as | 
 the artist has a piece of rude matter, which he is to fashion to a 
 certain shape. But the art of Jiving rightly is like all arts : the 
 I capacity alone is born with us ; it must be learned, and practiced 
 with incessant care." ■ , >' • ' y -/ '
 
 BOOK I. CHAPTER XVII. 59 
 
 These discussions our two speculators carried on between them to 
 considerable length ; at last they parted, without seeming to have 
 wrought any special conviction in each other, but engaging to meet 
 at an appointed place next day. 
 
 Wilhelm walked up and down the streets for a time ; he heard a 
 sound of clarionets, hunting-horns and bassoons ; it swelled his 
 bosom with delightful feelings. It was some traveling showmen 
 that produced this pleasant music. He spoke with them : for a piece 
 of coin they followed him to Mariana's house. The space in front of 
 the door was adorned with lofty trees ; under them he placed his 
 artists ; and himself resting on a bench at some distance, he surren- 
 dered his mind without restraint to the hovering tones which floated 
 round him in the cool mellow night. Stretched out beneath the 
 kind stars, he felt his existence like a golden dream. " She, too, 
 hears these flutes," said he within his heart; "she feels whose 
 remembrance, whose love of her it is that makes the night full of 
 music. In distance even, we are united by these melodies ; as in 
 every separation, by the ethereal accordance of love. Ah ! two 
 hearts that love each other are two magnetic needles ; whatever moves 
 the one must move the other with it ; for it is one power that works 
 in both, one principle that pervades them. Can I in her arms con- 
 ceive the possibility of parting from her? And yet I am soon to be 
 far from her ; to seek out a sanctuary for our love, and then to have 
 her ever with me." 
 
 " How often, when absent from her, and lost in thoughts about 
 her, happening to touch a book, a piece of dress or aught else, have 
 I thought I felt her hand, so entirely was I invested with her pres- 
 ence ! And to recollect those moments which shunned the light of 
 day and the eye of the cold spectator ; which to enjoy, the gods might 
 determine to forsake the painless condition of their pure blessedness ! 
 To recollect them ? As if by memory we could renew the tumultuous 
 thrilling of that cup of joy, which encircles our senses with celestial 
 bonds, and lifts them beyond all earthly hindrances. And her form " 
 — He lost himself in thoughts of her ; his rest passed away into long- 
 ing ; he leaned against a tree, and cooled his warm cheek on its bark ; 
 and the winds of the night wafted speedily aside the breath, which 
 proceeded in sighs from his pure and impassioned bosom. He groped 
 for the neckerchief he had taken from her ; but it was forgotten, it 
 lay in his other clothes. His frame quivered with emotion. 
 
 The music ceased, and he felt as if fallen from the element in which 
 his thoughts had hitherto been soaring. His restlessness increased, 
 as his feelings were no longer nourished and assuaged by the melody. 
 He sat down upon her threshold, and felt more peace. He kissed 
 the brass knocker of her door ; he kissed the threshold over which 
 her feet went out and in, and warmed it by the fire of his breast. 
 He again sat still for a moment, and figured her behind her curtains 
 in the white nightgown, with the red ribbon round her head, in
 
 60 MSISTEB'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 sweet repose ; he almost fancied that he was himself so near her, 
 she must needs be dreaming of him. His thoughts were beautiful, 
 like the spirits of the twilight ; rest and desire alternated within 
 him ; love ran with a quivering hand, in a thousand moods, over all 
 the chords of his soul : it was as if the spheres stood mute above 
 him, suspending their eternal song to watch the low melodies of his 
 heart. 
 
 Had he then had about him the master-key with which he used to 
 open Mariana's door, he could not have restrained himself from pene- 
 trating into the sanctuary of love. Yet he went away slowly ; he 
 slanted half-dreaming in beneath the trees, set himself for home, 
 and constantly turned round again ; at last, with an effort, he con- 
 strained himself, and actually departed. At the corner of the street, 
 looking back yet once, he imagined that he saw Mariana's door open, 
 and a dark figure issue from it. He was too distant for seeing clearly ; 
 and, before he could exert himself and look skarply, the appearance 
 was already lost in the night : yet afar off he thought he saw it again 
 gliding past a white house. He stood and strained his eyes ; but, 
 ere he could arouse himself and follow the phantom, it had vanished. 
 Whither .should he pursue it ? What street had the man taken, if it 
 were a man ? 
 
 A nightly traveler, when at some turn of his path he has seen the 
 country for an instant illuminated by a flash of lightning, will, with 
 dazzled eyes, next moment, seek in vain for the preceding forms and 
 the connection of his road : so was it in the eyes and the heart of 
 Wilhelm. And as a spirit of midnight, which awakens unutterable 
 terror, is, in the succeeding moments of composure, regarded as a 
 child of imagination, and the fearful vision leaves doubts without and 
 behind it in the soul : so likewise was Wilhelm in extreme disquie- 
 tude, as, leaning on the corner-stone of the street, he heeded not the 
 clear gray of the morning, and the crowing of the cocks ; till the 
 early trades began to stir, and drove him home. 
 
 On his way, he had almost effaced the unexpected delusion from 
 his mind by the most sufficient reasons ; yet the fine harmonious 
 feelings of the night, on which he now looked back as if they too had 
 been a vision, were also gone. To soothe his heart, and put the last 
 seal on his returning belief, he took the neckerchief from the pocket 
 of the dress he had been last wearing. The rustling of a letter which 
 fell out of it took the kerchief away from his lips ; he lifted and read: 
 
 " As I love thee, little fool, what ailed thee last night? This even- 
 ing I will come again. I can easily suppose that thou art sick of 
 staying here so long ; but have patience ; at the fair I will return for 
 thee. And observe, never more put me on that abominable black- 
 green-brown jacket ; thou lookest in it like the witch of Endor. Did 
 I not send the white nightgown that I mierlit have a snowy little 
 lambkin in my arms? Send thy letters always by the ancient sibyl ; 
 the devil himself has selected her as Iris."
 
 BOOK 11. CHAPTER L ' 61 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Whoever strives in our siglit with vehement force to reach an 
 object, be it one that we praise or that we blame, may count on ex- 
 citing an interest in our minds ; but when once the matter is decided, 
 we turn our eyes away from him ; whatever once lies finished and 
 done, can no longer at all fix our attention, especially if we at first, 
 prophesied an evil issue to the undertaking. 
 
 Therefore we shall not try to entertain our readers with any cir- 
 cumstantial account of the grief and desperation into which the ill- 
 fated Wilhelm was cast, when he saw his hopes so unexpectedly and 
 instantaneously ruined. On the contrary, we shall even pass over 
 several years, and again take up our friend, where we hope to find 
 him in some sort of activity and comfort. First, however, we must 
 shortly set forth a few matters necessary for maintaining the connec- 
 tion of our narrative. 
 
 The pestilence, or a malignant fever, rages with more fierceness and 
 speedier effect, if the frame which it attacks was before healthy and 
 full of vigor ; and in like manner, when a luckless unlooked-for fate 
 overtook the wretched Wilhelm, his whole being in a moment was 
 laid waste. As when by chance, in the preparation of some artificial ; 
 firework, any part of the composition kindles before its time ; and 
 the skillfully bored and loaded barrels, which, arranged, and burning 
 after a settled plan, would have painted in the air a magnificently 
 varying series of flaming images, — now hissing and roaring, promis- 
 . cuously explode with a confused and dangerous crash ; so, in our 
 hero's case, did happiness and hope, pleasure and joys, realities and 
 dreams, clash together with destructive tumult, all at once in his 
 bosom. In such desolate moments, the friend that has hastened to 
 deliverance stands fixed in astonishment ; and for him who suffers, it 
 is a benefit that sense forsakes him. 
 
 Days of pain, unmixed, ever-returning and purposely renewed, 
 succeeded next ; still even these are to be regarded as a grace from 
 nature. In such hours Wilhelm had not yet quite lost his mistress ; 
 his pains were indefatigable struggles, still to hold fast the happiness 
 that was gliding from his soul ; again to luxuriate in thought on the 
 possibility of it ; to procure a brief after-life for his joys that had 
 departed forever. Thus one may look upon a body as not utterly
 
 63 MEISTEB'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 dead while tlie putrefaction lasts, while the forces that in vain seek 
 to work by their old appointment still labor in dissevering the parti- 
 cles of that frame which they once animated ; and not till all is 
 disunited and inert, till we see the whole moldered down into indif- 
 ferent dust, — not till then does there rise in us the mournful vacant 
 sentiment of death ; death, not to be recalled save by the breath of 
 Him that lives forever. 
 
 In a temper so new, so entire, so full of love, there was much to 
 tear asunder, to desolate, to kill ; and even the healing force of youth 
 gave nourishment and violence to the power of sorrow. The stroke 
 had extended to the roots of his whole existence. Werner, by neces- 
 sity his confidant, attacked the hated passion itself witli fire and 
 sword, resolutely zealous to search into the monster's inmost life. 
 The opportunity was lucky, the evidence at hand, and many were 
 the histories and narratives with which he backed it out. With such 
 unrelenting vehemence did he make his advances, leaving his friend 
 not eveji the respite of the smallest momentary self-deception, but 
 treading-down every lurking-place, in which he might have saved 
 himself from desperation, that nature, not inclined to let her darling 
 perish utterly, visited him with sickness, to make an outlet for him 
 on the other side. 
 
 A violent fever, witli its train of consequences, medicines, over- 
 straining and exhaustion, besides the unwearied attentions of his 
 family, the love of his brothers and sisters, which first becomes truly 
 sensible in times of distress and want, were so many fresh occupa- 
 tions to his mind, and thus formed a kind of painful entertainment. 
 It was not till he grew better, in other words, till his strength was 
 exhausted, that Wilhelni first looked down with horror into the 
 gloomy abyss of a barren misery, as one looks down into the hollow 
 crater of an extinguished volcano. 
 
 He now bitterly reproached himself, that after so great a loss he 
 could yet enjoy one painless, restful, indifferent moment. He de- 
 spised his own heart, and longed for the balm of tears and lamen- 
 tation. 
 
 To awaken these again within him, he would recall to memory the 
 scenes of his bygone happiness. He would paint them to his fancy in 
 the liveliest colors, transport himself again into the daj's when they 
 were real ; and when standing on the highest elevation he could 
 reach, when the sunshine of past times again seemed to animate his 
 limbs and heave his bosom, he would look back into the fearful 
 chasm, would feast his eye on its dismembering depth, then plunge 
 down into its horrors, and thus force from nature the bitterest pains. 
 With repeated cruelty did he tear himself in pieces ; for youth, which 
 is so rich in undeveloped force, knows not what it squanders, when to 
 the anguish which a loss occasions, it adds so many sorrows of its 
 own producing, as if it meant tlien first to give the right value to what 
 is gone forever. He likewise felt so convinced that his present loss
 
 : BOOK IT' CHAPTER II. 63 
 
 was the sole, the first, the last which he ever could experience in life, 
 that he turned away from every consolation which aimed at showing 
 that his sorrows might be less than endless. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Accustomed in this way to torment liimself, he now also attacked 
 what still remained to him, what next to love, and along with it, had 
 given him the highest joys and hopes, his talent as a poet and actor, 
 with spiteful criticisms on every side. In his labors he could see 
 nothing but a shallow imitation of prescribed forms without intrinsic 
 worth ; he looked on them as stiff school exercises, destitute of any 
 spark of nature, truth, or inspiration. His poems now appeared 
 nothing more than a monotonous arrangement of syllables, in which 
 the most trite emotions and thoughts were dragged along and kept 
 together by a miserable rhyme. And thus did he also deprive him- 
 self of every expectation, every pleasure, which, on this quarter at 
 least, might have aided the recovery of his peace. 
 
 With his theatric talent it fared no better. He blamed himself for 
 not having sooner detected the vanity on which alone this pretension 
 had been founded. His figure, his gait, his movements, his mode of 
 declamation, were severally taxed : he decisively renounced every 
 species of advantage or merit, that might have raised him above the 
 common run of men, and so doing he increased his mute despair to 
 the highest pitch. For, if it is hard to give up a woman's love, no 
 less painful is the task to part from the fellowship of the muses, to 
 declare ourselves forever undeserving to be of their community ; and 
 to forego the fairest and most immediate kind of approbation, what is 
 openly bestowed on our person, our voice and our demeanor. 
 
 Thus then our friend had long ago entirely resigned himself, and 
 set about devoting his powers with the greatest zeal to the business 
 of trade. To the surprise of friends, and to the great contentment of 
 his father, no one Avas now more diligent than Wilhelm, on the ex- 
 change or in the counting-house, in the salesroom or the ware- 
 houses ; correspondence and calculations, all that was intrusted to his 
 charge, lie attended to and managed with the greatest diligence and 
 zeal. Not in truth with that warm diligence which to the busj' man 
 is its own reward, when he follows with constancy and order the em- 
 ployment he was born for ; but with the silent diligence of duty, 
 which has the best principle for its foundation, which is nourished by 
 conviction, and rewarded by conscience ; yet, which oft, even when 
 the clearest testimony of our minds is crowning it with approbation, 
 can scarcely repress a struggling sigh. 
 
 In this manner he had lived for a time, assiduously busied, ancj at 
 
 ^.aA^-^ ^ ~^
 
 64 M BISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 last persuaded tliat his former hard trial had been ordained by fate 
 for the best. "He felt glad at having thus been timefully, though 
 somewhat harshly warned about the proper path of life ; while many 
 are constrained to expiate more heavily, and at a later age, the mis- 
 conceptions into which tlieir youthful inexperience has betrayed them. 
 For, each man commonly defends himself as long as possible from 
 casting out the idols which he worships in his soul, from acknowl- 
 edging a master error, and admitting any truth which brings him to 
 despair. 
 
 Determined as lie was to abandon his dearest projectors, some time ' 
 was still necessary to convince him fully of his misfortune. At last, 
 however, he had so completely succeeded by irrefragable reasons in 
 annihilating every hope of love, of poetical performance, or stage 
 representation, that he took courage to obliterate entirely all the traces 
 of his folly, all that could in any way remind him of it. For this 
 purpose he had lit a fire in his chamber one cool evening, and brought 
 out a little chest of relics, among which were multitudes of small; 
 articles, that, in memorable moments, he had begged or stolen from; 
 Mariana. Each ^vithered flower brought to his mind the time when 
 it bloomed fresh among her hair ; each little note the happy hour to 
 which it had invited him ; each ribbon-knot the lovely resting-place 
 of his head, her beautiful bosom. So occupied, was it not to be ex- 
 pected that each en^otion, whicli he thought long since quite dead, 
 should again begin to move ? Was it not to be expected that the 
 passion, over which, when separated from his mistress, he had gained 
 the victory, should in the presence of these memorials, again gather 
 strength ? We first observe how dreary and disagreeable an over- 
 clouded day is, when a single sunbeam pierces through, and offers to 
 us the exhilarating splendor of a serene hour. 
 
 Accordingly, it was not without disturbance that he saw these relics, 
 long preserved as sacred, fade away from before him in smoke and 
 flame. Sometimes he shuddered and hestitated in his task ; he had 
 still a pearl necklace and a flowered neckerchief in his hands, when 
 he resolved to quicken the decaying fire with the poetical attempts of 
 his youth. 
 
 Till now he had carefully laid up whatever had proceeded from his 
 pen, since the earliest unfolding of his mind. His papers yet lay tied 
 up in a bundle at the bottom of the chest, where he had packed them, 
 purposing to take them with him in his elopement. How altogether 
 different were his feelings now in opening them, and his feelings 
 then in»tying them together ! 
 
 If we happen, under certain circumstances, to have written and 
 sealed and dispatched a letter to a friend, which, however, does not 
 find him, but is brought back to us, and we open it at the distance of 
 some considerable time, a singular emotion is produced in us, on 
 breaking up our own seal, and conversing with our altered self as 
 with a third person. A similar and deep feeling seized our friend, as
 
 BOOK n. CHAPTER 11. 65 
 
 lie now opened tliis packet, and threw the scattered leaves into the 
 fire ; which was flaming fiercely with its offerings, when Werner 
 entered, expressed his wonder at the blaze, and asked what was the 
 matter. 
 
 "I am now giving proof," said Wilhelm, "that I am serious in 
 abandoning a trade for which I was not born." And with these 
 words he cast the second packet likewise into the fire. Werner made 
 a motion to prevent him ; but the business was already done. 
 
 "I cannot see how thou shouldst bring thyself to such extremi- 
 ties," said Werner. " Why must these labors, because they are not 
 excellent, be annihilated 'i " 
 
 "Because either a poem is excellent, or it should not be allowed 
 to exist. Because each man, who has no gift for producing first-rate 
 works, should entirely abstain from the pursuit of art, and seriously 
 guard himself against every deception on that subject. For it must 
 be owned, that in all men there is a certain vague desire to imitate 
 whatever is presented to them ; and such desires do not prove at all 
 that we possess the force within us necessary for succeeding in these 
 enterprises. Look at boys, how, whenever any rope-dancers have 
 been visiting the town, they go scrambling up and down, and balanc- 
 ing on all the planks and beams within their reach, till some other 
 charm calls them off to other sports, for which perhaps they are as 
 little suited. Hast thou never marked it in the circle of our friends? 
 No sooner does a dilettante introduce himself to notice, than numbers 
 . of them set themselves to learn playing on his instrument. How I 
 many wander back and forward on this bootless way ! Happ v they. 
 whfl,-s oon dotoc t the chasm that lies between their wishes ana their] 
 ' powers ! " ' 
 
 Werner contradicted this opinion ; their discussion became lively, 
 and Wilhelm could not without emotion employ against his friend 
 the arguments with which he had already so frequently tormented 
 himself. Werner maintained that it was not reasonable \\*holly to 
 relinquish a pursuit for which a man had some propensity and talent, 
 merely because he never could succeed in it to full perfection. There 
 were many vacant hours, he said, which might be filled up by it ; 
 and then by and by some result might be produced, which would 
 yield a certain satisfaction to himself and others. 
 
 Wilhelm, -who in this matter was of quite a different opinion, here 
 interrupted him, and said with great vivacity : 
 
 " How immensely, dear friend, do you err in believing that a work, 
 the first presentation of which is to fill the whole soul, can be pro- 
 duced in J*roken hours scraped together from other extraneous em- 
 ployment ! No, the poet must live wholly for himself, wholly in the 
 objects that delight him. Heaven has furni.shed him internally with 
 precious gifts ; he carries in his bosom a treasure that is ever of 
 itself increasing ; he must also live with this treasure, undisturbed 
 from without, in that still blessedness which the rich seek in vain to 
 Meister — 3
 
 r,6 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 purchase witli their accumulated stores. Look at men, how they 
 struggle after happiness and satisfaction ! Their wishes, their toil, 
 their gold, are ever hunting restlessly ; and after what? After that 
 which tlie poet has received from nature, — the right enjoyment ofv 
 the world ; the feeling of himself in others ; the harmonious cony 
 junction of many things that will seldom exist together. 
 
 "What is it that keeps men in continual discontent and agitation? --^ 
 It is, that they cannot make realities correspond with their concep- / 
 tions, that enjoyment steals away from among their hands, that the / 
 wished-for comes too late, and nothing reached and acquired pro- / 
 duces on the heart the effect which their longing for it at a distance/ 
 led them to anticipate. Now fate has exalted the poet above all this/ 
 as if he were a god. He views the conflicting tumult of the passions'; 
 sees families and kingdoms raging in aimless commotion ; sees those 
 inexplicable enigmas of misunderstanding, which frequently a single 
 monosyllable would suffice to explain, occasioning convulsions unut- 
 terably baleful. He lias a fellow-feeling of the mournful and the) 
 joyful in the fate of all human beings. When the man of the world/ 
 is devoting his days to wasting melancholy, for some deep disappoint- 
 ment ; or, in the ebullience of joy, is goin;^ out to meet his happy 
 destiny, the lightly-moved and all-conceiving spirit of the poet steps 
 forth, like the sun from night to day, and with soft transitions tunes 
 his heart to joy or woe. From his heart, his native soil, springs up 
 the lovely flower of wisdom ; and if others, while waking, dream, 
 and are pained with fantastic delusions from their every sense, he 
 passes the dream of life like one awake, and the strangest of inci- 
 dents is to him but a part both of the pastand of the f utjjBe. And thus 
 the poet is at once a teacher, a prophet, a friend, of gods and men. 
 How ! thou wouldst have him descend f rom liis height to some pal- 
 try occupations ? He who is fashioned like the bird to hover round 
 the world, to nestle on the lofty summits, to feed, on buds and fruits, 
 exchanging gayly one; bougli for another, he ought also to work at the 
 plow like an ox : like a dog to train himself to the harness and 
 draught : or perhaps, tied up in a chain, to guard a farm-yard by his 
 barking ! " 
 
 Werner, it may Avell be supposed, had listened with the greatest 
 surprise. '•' All true," he rejoined, ' ' if men were but made like birds, 
 and though they neither spun nor weaved, could yet spend peaceful 
 days in perpetual enjoyment ; if, at the approach of winter, they 
 could as easily betake themselves to distant regions, could retire 
 before scarcity, and fortify themselves against frost." 
 
 "Poets have lived so," exclaimed Willielm, "in times when true 
 nobleness was better reverenced ; and so should they ever live. 
 Sufficiently provided for within, they had need of little from with- 
 out ; the gift of conmiunicating lofty emotions and glorious images to 
 men, in melodies and words that charmed the ear, and fixed them- 
 selves inseparably on whatever objects they referred to, of old enrap-
 
 BOOK IF. CHAPTER IT. 67 
 
 tured the world, and served the gifted as a rich inheritance. At the 
 courts of kings, at the tables of the great, beneath the windows oi 
 the fair, the sound of them was heard, while the ear and the soul 
 were shut to all beside ; and men felt, as we do when delight comes 
 over us, and we stop with rapture if among the dingles we are cross- 
 ing the voice of the nightingale starts out touching and strong. They 
 found a home in every habitation of the world, and the lowliness of 
 their condition but exalted them the more. The hero listened to their 
 songs ; and the conqueror of the earth did reverence to a poet, for he 
 felt that with out poets liis own wild and vast existence would pass away 
 like a whirlwind, and be forgotten forever. The lover wished that 
 he could feel his longings and his joys so variedly and so harmoniously 
 as the poet's inspired lips had skill "to show them forth ; and even the 
 rich man could not of himself discern such costliness in his idol 
 grandeurs, as when they were presented to him shining in the splen- 
 dor of the poet's spirit, sensible to all worth, and exalting all. Nay, 
 if thou wilt have it, who but the poet was it that first formed gods 
 for us ; that exalted us to them, and brought them doA\Ti to us ? " 
 
 "My friend," said Werner, after some reflection, " it has often 
 grieved me, that thou shouldst strive by force to banish from thy 
 soul what thou feele.st so vividly. I am greatly mistaken, if it were 
 not better for thee in some degree to yield to these propensities, than 
 to waste thyself by the contradictions of so hard a piece of self-denial, 
 and with the enjoyment of this one guiltless pleasure to renounce the 
 enjoyment of all others." 
 
 " Shall 1 confess it," said the other, "and ^vilt thou not laugh at 
 me if I acknowledge that these ideas pursue me constantly ; that, let 
 me fly them as I will, when I explore my heart, I find all my early 
 wishes yet rooted there firmly, nay more firmly than ever ? Yet what 
 now remains for me, wretched that I am ? Ah ! whoever should have 
 told me that the arms of my spirit, with which I Avas grasping at in- 
 finity, and hoping with certainty to clasp something great and glorious, 
 would so soon be crushed and smote in pieces ; whoever should have 
 told me this would have brought me to despair. And yet now, when 
 judgment has been passed against me ; now when she, that was to be 
 as my divinity to guide me to my wishes, is gone forever, what remains 
 but that I yield up my soul to "the bitterest woes ? O my brother ! I 
 will not deceive you : in my secret purposes, she was the hook on 
 which the ladder of my hopes was fixed : See ! With daring aim 
 the mounting adventurer hovers in the air : the iron breaks, and he 
 lies broken and dismembered on the eanh. No, there is no hope, no 
 comfort for me more ! I will not," he cried out, springing to his feet, 
 "leave a single fragment of these wretched papers from the flames." 
 He then seized one or two packets of them, tore them up, and threw 
 them into the fire. Werner endeavored to restrain him, but in vain. 
 "Let me alone !" cried Wilhelm ; what should these miserable leaves 
 do here ? To me they give neither pleasant recollections, nor pleasant
 
 68 MEISTER'8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 hopes. Shall they remain behind to vex me to the end of my life ? 
 Shall they perhaps one day serve the world for a jest, instead of 
 awakening sympathy and horror? Woe to me ! my doom is woe ! 
 Now I comprehend the wailings of the poets, of the wretched whom 
 necessity has rendered wise. How long did 1 look upon mysel f as in- 
 vulnerable and invincible ; and alas ! I am now made to see that a 
 deep and early sorrow can never heal, can never pass away ; I feel 
 that I shall take it with me to my grave. No ! not a day of my life 
 shall escape this anguish, which at last must crush me down ; and her 
 image too shall stay with me, shall live and die with me, the image of 
 the worthless — O my friend ! if I must speak the feelings of my 
 heart — the perhaps not altogether worthless ! Her situation, the crook- 
 edness of her destiny, have a thousand times excused her in my mind. 
 I have been too cruel ; you steeled me in your own cold unrelenting 
 harshness ; you held my wavering senses captive, and hindered me 
 from doing for myself and her what I owed to boLh. Who knows to 
 what a state I may have brought her ; my conscience by degrees pre- 
 sents to me, in all its heaviness, in what helplessness, in what despair 
 I may have left her. Was it not possible that she might clear 
 herself ? Was it not possible ? How many misconceptions throw 
 the world into perplexity ; how many circumstances may extort 
 forgiveness for the greatest fault ! Often do I figure her as sitting 
 by herself in silence, leaning on her elbows. ' This,' she says, ' is the 
 faith, the love he swore to me ! With this hard stroke to end the 
 delicious life which made us one ? ' " He broke out into a stream of 
 tears, while he threw himself down with his face upon the table, and 
 wetted the remaining papers with his weeping. 
 
 Werner stood beside him in the deepest perplexity: He had not 
 anticipated this fierce ebullition of feeling. More than once he had 
 tried to interrupt liis friend, more than once to lead the conversation 
 elsewhere, but in vain ; the current was too strong for him. It re- 
 mained that long-suffering friendship should again take up her office. 
 Werner allowed the first shock of sorrow to pass over, while by his 
 silent presence lie testified a pure and honest sympathy. And thus 
 they both remained that evening : Wilhelm sunk in the dull feeling 
 of old sorrows ; and the other terrified at this new outbreaking of a 
 passion, which he thought his prudent counsels and keen persuafiion 
 had long since mastered and destroyed-
 
 BOOK II. CHAPTER IIL 69 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 After such relapses, Wilhelm usually applied himself to business 
 and activity with augmented ardor ; and he found it the best means 
 to escape the labyrinth into which he had again been tempted to 
 enter. His attractive way of treating strangers, the ease with wliich 
 he carried on a corresponclenco in any living language, more and more 
 increased the hopes of his father and his trading friends ; and com- 
 forted them in their sorrow for his sickness, the origin of which had 
 not been known, and for the pause which had thus interrupted tlieir 
 plan. They determined a second time on Wilhelm's setting out to 
 travel ; and we now find him on horseback, with his saddle-bags 
 behind him, exhilarated by the motion and the free air, approaching 
 the mountains, where he had some affairs to settle. 
 
 He winded slowly on his path, through dales and over hills, with 
 a feeling of the greatest satisfaction. Overhanging cliffs, roaring 
 brooks, moss-grown rocky walls, deep jirecipices, he hei-e saw for the 
 first time ; yet his earliest dreams of youth had wandered among 
 such regions. In these scenes, he felt his age renewed ; all the sor- 
 rows he had undergone were obliterated from his soul ; with un- 
 broken cheerfulness he repeated to himself passages of various poems, 
 particularly of the " Pastor Fido," which, in these solitary places, 
 iiocked in crowds into his mind. He also recollected many pieces of 
 his own songs, and recited them with a peculiar contentment. He 
 peopled the world which lay before him with all the forms of the 
 past ; and each step into the future was to him full of augury of im- 
 portant operations and remarkable events. 
 
 Several men, who came behind him in succession, and saluted him 
 as they passed by to continue their hasty way into the mountains, by 
 steep footpaths, sometimes interrupted his thoughts without attract- 
 ing his attention to themselves. At last a communicative traveler 
 Joined him, and explained the reason of this general pilgrimage. 
 
 " At Hochdorf," he said, " there is a play to be acted to-night, and 
 the whole neighborhood is gathering to see it." 
 
 "How!" cried Wilhelm. "In these solitary hills, among these 
 impenetrable forests, has theatric art sought out a place, and built 
 herself a temple? And I am journeying to her festivities-!" 
 
 "You will wonder more," said the other, "when you learn by 
 whom the piece is to be played. There is in the place a large manu- 
 factory which employs many people. The proprietor, who lives, so 
 to speak, remote from all human society, can find no better means of 
 entertaining his workmen during winter, than allowing them to act 
 plays. He suffers no cards among them ; and wishes also to with- 
 draw them from all coarse rustic practices. Thus they pass the long
 
 70 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 evenings ; and to-day, being the old gentleman's birthday, they are 
 giving a particular festival in honor of him." 
 
 Wilhelm came to Hochdorf, where he was to pass the night ; and 
 alighted at the manufactory, the proprietor of which stood as a 
 debtor in his list. 
 
 When he gave his name, the old man cried in a glad surprise : 
 "Ay, sir, are you the son of that worthy man to whom I owe so 
 many thanks ; so long have owed money? Your good father has had 
 so much patience with me, I should be a knave if I did not pay you 
 speedily and cheerfully. You come at the proper time to see that I 
 am fully in earnest about it." 
 
 He then called out his wife, who seemed no less delighted than 
 himself to see the youth : she declared that he was very like his 
 father ; and lamented that, having such a multitude of guests already 
 in the house, she could not lodge him for the night. 
 
 The account was clear, and quickly settled ; Wilhelm put the roll 
 of gold into his pocket, and wished that all his other business might 
 go on as smoothly. At last the play-hour came : they now waited 
 nothing but the coming of the head forester, who at length also 
 arrived ; entered with a few hunters, and was received with the 
 greatest reverence. 
 
 The company was then led into the playhouse, formed out of a 
 barn that lay close upon the garden. Without any extraordinary 
 taste, both seats and stage were yet decked out in a cheerful and 
 pretty way. One of the painters employed in the manufactory had 
 formerly worked as an understrapper at the Prince's theatre ; he had 
 now represented woods, and streets, and chambers, somewhat rudely, 
 it is true, yet so as to be recognized for such. The piece itself they 
 had borrowed from a strolling company, and shaped it aright accord- 
 ing to their own ideas. As it was, it did not fail to yield some enter- 
 tainment. The plot of two lovers wishing to carry off a girl from 
 her guardian, and mutually from one another, produced a great 
 variety of interesting situations. Being the first play our friend had 
 witnessed for so long a time, it suggested several retiections to him. 
 It was full of action, but without any true delineation of character. 
 It pleased and delighted. Such are always the beginnings of the 
 scenic art. The rude man is contented if he sees but something 
 going on, the man of more refinement must be made to feel, the man 
 entirely refined desires to reflect. 
 
 The players he would willingly have helped here and there ; for a 
 very little would have made them greatly better. 
 
 His silent meditations were somewhat broken in upon by the 
 tobacco smoke, which now began to rise in great and greater copious- 
 ness. Soon after the conmieucement of the piece, the head forester 
 had lit his pipe ; by and by, others took the same liberty. The large 
 dogs too, which followed these gentlemen, introduced themselves in 
 no pleasant style. At first they had been bolted out ; but soon fiudr
 
 BOOK II. CHAPTER IV. 71 
 
 ing the back-door passage, they entered on the stage ; ran against 
 the actors ; and at last, jumping over the orchestra, joined their 
 masters, who had taken up the front seats in the pit. 
 
 For afterpiece an opera was given. A portrait, representing the 
 old gentleman in his bridegroom dress, stood upon an a:tar, hung 
 with garlands. All the players paid their reverence to it in the most 
 submissive postures. The youngest child came forward dressed in 
 white, and made a speech in verse ; by which the whole family, and 
 even the head forester himself, whom it brought in mind of his own 
 children, were melted into tears. So ended the piece ; and Wilhelm 
 could not help stepping on the stage, to have a closer view of the 
 actresses, to praise them for their good performance, and give them 
 a little counsel for the future. 
 
 The remaining business, which our friend in the following days 
 had to transact in various quarters of the hili-couutry, was not all 
 so pleasant, or so easy to conclude with satisfaction. Many of his 
 creditors entreated for delay, many were uncourteous, many lied. 
 In conformity with his instructions, he had some of them to sue at 
 law ; he was thus obliged to seek out advocates, and give instructions 
 to them, to appear before judges, and to go through many other 
 sorry duties of the same sort. 
 
 His case was hardly bettered, when people chanced to incline show- 
 ing some attentions to him. He found very few that could in any way 
 instruct him ; few with whom he could hope to establish a useful com- 
 mercial correspondence. Unhappily, moreover, the weather now grew 
 rainy, and traveling on horseback in this district came to be attended 
 with insufEerable difficulties. He therefore thanked his stars on again 
 getting near the level country ; and at the foot of the mountains look- 
 ing out into a fertile and beautiful plain, intersected by a smooth- 
 flowing river, and seeing a cheerful little town lying on its banks all 
 glittering in the sunshine, he resolved, though without any special 
 business in the place, to pass a day or two there, that he might i-efresli 
 both himself and his horse, which the bad roads had considerably 
 injured. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 On alighting at an inn, upon the market-place, he found matters 
 going on very joyously, at least very stirringly. A great company of 
 rope-dancers, leapers and jugglers, having a strong man along with 
 them, had just arrived with their wives and children ; and while 
 preparing for a grand exhibition, they kept up a perpetual racket. 
 They first quarreled with the landlord ; then with one another ; and 
 if their contention was intolerable, the expressions of their satisfac- 
 tion were infinitely more so. Undetermined whether he should go or
 
 73 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 stay, lie was standing in the door, looking at some workmen who had 
 just begun to erect a stage in the middle of the sqixare. 
 
 A girl, with roses and other flowers for sale, coming by, held out 
 her basket to him, and he purchased a beautiful nosegay ; which, 
 like one that had a taste for these things, he tied up in a different 
 fashion, and was looking at it with a satisfied air, when the Avindow 
 of another inn on the opposite side of the square flew up, and a hand- 
 some young lady looked out from it. Notwithstanding the distance, 
 he observed that her face was animated by a pleasant cheerfulness ; 
 her fair hair fell carelessly streaming about her neck ; she seemed to 
 be looking at the stranger. In a short time afterwards, a boy with a 
 white jacket, and a barber's apron on, came out from the door of her 
 house, towards Wilhelm ; saluted him, and said : " The lady at the 
 window bids me ask if you will not faA'or her with a share of your 
 beautiful flowers." — "They are all at her service," answered Wil- 
 helm, giving the nosegay to this nimble messenger, and nu\king a 
 bow to the fair one, which she returned with a friendly courtesy, and 
 then withdrew from the window. 
 
 Amused with this small adventvire, he was going upstairs to his 
 chamber, when a young creature sprang against him, and attracted his 
 attention. A short silk waistcoat with slashed Spanish sleeves, tight 
 trousers with putfs, looked very pretty on the child. Its long black 
 hair was curled, and wound in locks and plaits about the head. He 
 looked at the figure with astonishment, and could not determine 
 whether to take it for a boy or a girl. However, he decided for the 
 latter ; and as the child ran by, he took her up in his arms, bade her 
 good-day, and asked her to whom she belonged, though he easily per- 
 ceived that she must be a member of the vaulting and dancing com- 
 pany lately arrived. She viewed him with a dark sharp side-look, as 
 she pushed herself out of his arms, and ran into the kitchen without 
 making any answer. 
 
 On coming upstairs, he found in the large parlor two men practic- 
 ing tlie small sword, or seeming rather to make trial which was the 
 better fencer. One of them plainly enough belonged to the vaulting 
 company, the other had a somewhat less savage aspect. AN'ilhelm 
 io(jk(Hl at them, and had reason to admire them both ; and as the 
 black-bearded, sturdy contender soon afterwards forsook the place of 
 action, the other with extreme complaisance offered Wilhelm the 
 rapier. 
 
 "If you want to take a scholar under your inspection," said our 
 friend, " I am well content to risk a few passes with you." 
 
 Accordingly they fought together ; and although the stranger 
 greatly over-matched his new competitor, he politely Icept declaring 
 that it all depended njjon practice ; in fact, ^Vilholm, inferior as he 
 was, had made it evident that he had got liis first instructions from a 
 good, solid, thorough -paced (ierman fencing-master. 
 
 Their entertainment was disturbed by the uproar with which the
 
 BOOI{: 11. CHAPTER IV. 73 
 
 parti-colored brotlierliood issued from the iun, to make proclamation 
 of tlie show, and awaken a desire to see their art, throughout the 
 town. Preceded by a drum, the manager advanced on horseback ; he 
 was followed by a female dancer mounted on a corresponding hack, 
 and holding a child before her, all bedizened with ribbons and span- ^ 
 gles. Next came the remainder of the troup on foot ; some of them 
 carrying children on their shoulders in dangerous postures, yet 
 smoothly and lightly ; among these the young, dark, black-haired 
 figure again attracted Wilhelm's notice. 
 
 Pickleherring ran gayly up and. down the crowding multitude, dis- 
 tributing his ^land-bills with much practical fun ; here smacking the 
 lips of a girl, there breeching a boy, and awakening generally among 
 the people an invincible desire to know more of him. 
 
 On the painted Hags, the manifold science of the company was visi- 
 bly delineated ; particularly of a Monsieur Xarciss and the Demoiselle 
 Landrinette; both of whom, being main characters, had prudently 
 kept back from the procession, thereby to acquire a more dignified 
 consideration, and excite a greater curiosity. 
 
 During the procession, Wilhelm's fair neighbor had again appeared 
 at the window ; and he did not fail to inquire about her of his new 
 companion. This person, whom, for the present, we shall call Laertes, 
 offered to take Wilhelm over and introduce him. " I and the lady," 
 said he, laughing, "are two fragments of an acting company that 
 made shipwreck here a short while ago. The pleasantness of the 
 place has induced us to stay in it, and consume our little stock of 
 cash in peace, while one of our friends is out seeking some situation 
 for himself and us." 
 
 Laertes immediately accompanied his new acquaintance to Philina's 
 door ; where he left him for a moment, and ran to a shop hard by for 
 a few sweetmeats. " I am sure you will thank me," said he on re- 
 turning, " for procuring -you so pleasant an acquaintance." 
 
 The lady came out from her room in a pair of tight little slippers 
 with high heels, to give them welcome. She had thrown a black 
 mantle over her, above a white neglige, not indeed superstitiously 
 clean, but which, for that very reason, gave her a more frank and 
 domestic air. Her short dress did not hide a pair of the prettiest feet 
 and ankles in the world. 
 
 "You are welcome," she cried to Wilhelm, "and I thank you for 
 your charming flowers." She led him into her chamber with the one 
 hand, pressing the nosegay to her breast with the other. Being all 
 seated, and got into a pleasant train of general talk, to which she had 
 the art of giving a delightful turn, Laertes threw a handful of ginger- 
 bread-nuts into her lap, and she immediately began to eat them. 
 
 " Look what a child this young gallant is I" she said : " he wants 
 to persuade you that I am fond of such confectionery ; and it is him- 
 self that cannot live without licking his lips over something of the 
 kind."
 
 74 MEISTER'S APPRfJNTIGESHIP. 
 
 " Let us confess," replied Laertes, " that in this point, as in others, 
 you and I go hand in hand. For example," he continued, " the 
 weather is delightful to-day : what if we should take a drive into the 
 f country, and eat our dinner at the Mill'? " 
 
 "With all ray heart," said Piiilina ; "we must give our new ac- 
 quaintance some diversion." 
 
 Laertes sprang out, for he never walked ; and Wilhelm motioned 
 to return for a minute to his lodgings, to have his hair put in order ; 
 for at present it was all disheveled with riding. " You- can do it 
 here ! " she said ; then called her little servant, and constrained Wil- 
 helm in the politest manner to lay off his coat, to throw her powder- 
 mantle over him, and to have his head dressed in her presence. " W^e 
 must lose no time," said she : "who knows how short a while we 
 may all be together ? " 
 
 The boy, out of sulkiness and ill-nature more than want of skill, 
 went on but indifferently with his task ; he pulled the hair with his 
 implements, and seemed as if he would not soon be done. Philina 
 more than once reproved him for his blunders, and at last sharply 
 packed him off, and chased him to the door. She then undertook the 
 business herself, and frizzled W^ilhelm's locks with great dexterity 
 and grace ; though she too appeared to be in no exceeding haste, but 
 found always this and that to improve «nd put to rights; while at 
 the same time she could not help touching his knees with hers, and 
 holding her nosegay and bosom so near his lips that he was strqpgly 
 tempted more than once to imprint a kiss on it. 
 
 When Wilhelm had cleaned his brow with a little powder-knife, 
 she said to him : " Put it in your pocket, and think of me when you 
 see it." It was a pretty knife : the haft, of inlaid steel, had these 
 friendly words Avrought on it, Think of me. W' ilhelm put it up, and 
 thanked her, begging permission at the same time to make her a lit- 
 tle present in return. 
 
 At last they were in readiness. Laertes had brought round the 
 coach, and they commenced a very gay excursion. To every beggar 
 Philina threw out money from the window, giving along with it a 
 merry and friendly word. 
 
 Scarcely had they reached the Mill, and ordered dinner, when a 
 strain of music struck up before tlie house. It was some miners sing- 
 ing various pretty songs, and accompanj'ing their clear and shrill 
 voices witli a citliern and triangle. In a short while the gathering 
 crowd had formed a ring about them ; and our company nodded ap- 
 probation to them from the windows. Observing this attention, they 
 expanded their circle, and seemed making preparation for their grand- 
 est piece. After some pause, a miner stepped forward with a mattock 
 in his hand ; and while the others played a serious tune, he set him- 
 self to represent the at-tion of digging. 
 
 Ere long a peasant came from among the crowd, and by pantomimic 
 threat let the former know that he must cease and remove, Our com-
 
 BOOK 11. CHAPTER IV. 75 
 
 pany were greatly surprised at this ; tliey did not discover that the 
 peasant was a miner in disguise ; till he opened his mouth, and in a 
 sort of recitative, rebuked the other for daring to meddle with his 
 field. The latter did not lose his composure of mind, but began to 
 inform the husbandman about his right to break ground there, giving 
 him withal some primary conceptions of mineralogy. The peasant 
 not being master of his foreign terminology, asked all manner of silly 
 questions : whereat the spectators, as themselves more knowing, set 
 up many a hearty laugh. The miner endeavored to instruct him ; 
 and showed him the advantage which, in the long run, would reach 
 even him, if the deep-lying treasures of the land were dug out from 
 their secret beds. The peasant, who at first had threatened his in- 
 structor with blows, was gradually pacified, and they parted good 
 friends at last ; though it was the miner chiefly that got out of this 
 contention with honor. 
 
 " In this little dialogue," said Wilhelm, when seated at table, " we 
 have a lively proof how useful the theater might be to all ranks ; v>'hat 
 advantage even the State might procure from it, if tlie occupations, 
 trades and undertakings of men were brought upon the stage ; and 
 presented on their praiseworthy side, in that point of view in which 
 the State itself should honor and protect them. As matters stand, 
 we exhibit only the ridiculous side of men ; the comic poet is, as it 
 were, but a spiteful tax-gatherer, who keeps a watchful eye over the 
 errors of his fellow-subjects, and seems gratified when he can fix any 
 charge upon them. Might it not be a worthy and pleasing task for a 
 statesman to survey the natural and reciprocal influence of all classes 
 on each other, and to guide some poet, gifted with sufficient humor, 
 in such labors as these ? In tliis way I am persuaded, many very en- 
 tertaining, both agreeable and useful pieces, might be executed." 
 
 " So far," said Laertes, "as I, in wandering about the world, have 
 been able to observe, statesmen are accustomed merely to forbid, to 
 hinder, to refuse ; but very rarely to invite, to further, to reward. 
 They let all things go along, till some mischief happens ; then they 
 get into a rage, and lay about them." 
 
 " A truce with state and statesman ! " said Philina ; " I cannot form 
 a notion of statesmen except in periwigs ; and a periwig, wear it who 
 will, always gives my fingers a spasmodic motion ; I could like to 
 pluck it off the venerable gentleman, and skip up and down the room 
 with it, and laugh at the bald head." 
 
 So, with a few lively songs, which she could sing very beautifully, 
 Philina cut short their conversation ; and urged them to a quick re- 
 turn hom.ewards, that they might arrive in time to see the perform- 
 ance of the rope-dancers in the evening. On the road back she con- 
 tinued her lavish generositj'j in a style of gayety reaching to extrava- 
 gance ; for, at last, every coin belonging to herself or her companions 
 being spent, she threw her straw hat from the window to a girl, and 
 her neckerchief to an old woman, who asked her for alms.
 
 -76 MEISTER' 8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 Pliilina invited both of her attendants to her own apartments ; be- 
 cause, she said, the spectacle could be seen more conveniently from 
 her windows than from theirs. 
 
 On arriving, they found the stage set up, and the background 
 decked with suspended carpets. The swing-boards were already 
 fastened, the slack-rope fixed to posts, the tight-rope bound over 
 trestles. The square was moderately filled with people, and the win- 
 dows with spectators of some quality. 
 
 Pickleherring, with a few insipidities, at which the lookers-on are 
 generally kind enough to laugh, first prepared the meeting to at- 
 tention and good humor. Some children, whose bodies were made 
 to exhibit the strangest contortions, awakened astonishment or hor- 
 ror ; and Wilhelm could not, without the deepest sympathy, see the 
 child he had at the first glance felt an interest in, go through her 
 fantastic positions with considerable difficulty. But the merry tum- 
 blers soon changed the feeling into that of lively satisfaction, when 
 they first singly, then in rows, and at last all together, vaulted up 
 into the air, making somersets backwards and forwards. A loud clap- 
 ping of hands and a strong huzzah echoed from the whole assembly. 
 
 The general attention was next directed to quite a different object. 
 The children in succession had to mount the rope ; the learners first, 
 that by practicing they might prolong the spectacle, and show the 
 difficulties of the art more clearly. Some men and full-grown women 
 likewise exhibited their skill to moderate advantage'; but still there 
 was no Monsieur Narciss, no Demoiselle Landrinette. . 
 
 At last the worthy pair came forth ; they issued from a kind of 
 tent with red spread curtains ; and, by their agreeable forms and 
 glittering decorations, fulfilled the hitherto increasing hopes of the 
 spectators. He, a hearty knave, of middle stature, with black eyes 
 and a strong head of hair ; she, formed with not inferior symmetry, 
 exhibited themselves successively upon the rope, with delicate move- 
 ments, leaping, and singular postures. Her airj' lightness ; his 
 audacity ; the exactitude with which they both performed their feats 
 of art, raised the universal satisfaction higher at every step and 
 spring. The stateliness with which they bore themselves, the seem- 
 ing attentions of the rest to them, gave them the appearance of king 
 and queen of the whole troup, and all held them worthy of the 
 rank. 
 
 The animation of the people extended itself to the spectators at the 
 windows ; the ladies looked incessantly at Narciss, the gentlemen at 
 Landrinette. The populace hurrahed, the more cultivated public could 
 not keep from clapping of the hands ; Pickleherring now could 
 scarcely raise a laugh. A few, however, slunk away, when some 
 members of the troup began to press through the crowd with their tin 
 plates to collect money. 
 
 "They have made their purpose good, I imagine," said Wilhelm to 
 Philina, who was leaning over the window beside him. " I admire
 
 BOOK II. CHAPTER IV. 77 
 
 the ingenuity with which they have turned to advantage even the 
 meanest parts of their performance ; out of the unskillfulness of 
 their children, and exquisiteness of their chief actors, they have made 
 up a whole which at first excited our attention, and then gave us very 
 fine entertainment." 
 
 The people by degrees. dispersed, and the square was again hecome 
 empty, while Philinaand Laertes were disputing about the forms and 
 the skill of Narciss and Landrinette, and rallying each other on the 
 subject at great length. Wilhelm noticed the wonderful child stand- 
 ing on the street near some other children at play ; he showed her 
 to Philina, wlio, in her lively way, immediately called and beckoned 
 to the little one, and, this not succeeding, tripped singing downstairs, 
 and led her up by the hand. 
 
 " Here is the enigma," said she, as she brought her to the door. 
 The child stood upon the threshold, as if she meant again to run off ; 
 laid her right hanfi on her breast, the left on her brow, and bowed 
 deeply. "Fear nothing, my little dear," said Wilhelm, rising and 
 going towards her. She viewed him with a doubting look, and came 
 a few steps nearer. 
 
 " What is thy name ? " he asked. " They call me Mignon." " How 
 old art thou?" "No one has counted." " Who was thy father ? " 
 " The Great Devil is dead." 
 
 " Well ! this is singular enough," said Philina. They asked her a 
 few more questions ; she gave her answers in a kind of broken Ger- 
 man, and with a strangely solemn manner, every time laying her 
 hands on her breast and brow, and bowing deeply. 
 
 Wilhelm could not satisfy himself with looking at her. His eyes 
 and his heart were irresistibly attracted by the mysterious condition 
 of this being. He reckoned her about twelve or thirteen years of 
 age ; her body was well formed, only her limbs gave promise of a 
 stronger growth, or else announced a stunted one. Her countenance 
 was not regular, but striking ; her brow full of mystery ; her nose 
 extremely beautiful ; her mouth, although it seemed too closely shut 
 for one of her age, and though she often threw it to a side, had yet 
 an air of frankness, and was very lovely. Her brownish complexion 
 could scarcely be discerned through the paint. This form stamped 
 itself deeply in Wilhelm's soul; he kept looking at her earnestly, 
 and forgot the present scene in the multitude of his reflections. Phi- 
 lina waked him from his half- dream, by holding out the remainder 
 of her sweetmeats to the child, and giving her a sign to go away. She 
 made her little bow as formerly, and darted like lightning through 
 the door. 
 
 As the time drew on when our new friends had to part for the 
 evening, they planned a fresh excursion for the morrow. They pur- 
 posed, now to have their dinner at a neighboring Jagerhaus. Before 
 taking leave of Laertes, Wilhelm said many things in Philina's 
 praise, to which the other made only brief and careless answers.
 
 78 MEISTEB'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 Next morning, having once more exercised themselves in fencing 
 tor an hour, they went over to Philina's lodging, towards which they 
 had seen their expected coach passing by. But how surprised was 
 VVilhelm, when the coach seemed altogether to have vanished ; and 
 how much more so, when Philiua was not to be found at home ! She 
 had placed herself in the carriage, they were told, with a couple of 
 strangers who had come that morning, and was gone with them. 
 Wilhelm had been promising himself some pleasant entertainment 
 from her company, and could not hide his irritation. liaeretes, on 
 the other liand, had laughed at it, and cried : "I love her for this : 
 it looks so like herself ! Let us, however, go directly to the Jager- 
 haus : be Philina where she pleases, we will not lose our promenade 
 on her account. 
 
 As Wilhelm, while they walked, continued censuring the incon- 
 sistency of such conduct, Laertes said : " I cannot reckon it incon- 
 sistent so long as one keeps faithful to his character. If this Philina 
 plans you anything, or promises you anything, she does it under the 
 tacit condition that it shall be quite convenient for her to fulfill her 
 plan, to keep her promise. She gives willingly ; but you must ever 
 hold yourself in readiness to return her gifts." 
 
 "That seems a singular character," said Wilhelm. 
 
 " Anything but singular ; only she is not a hypocrite. I like her 
 on that account. Yes, I am her friend, because she represents the 
 sex so truly, which I have so much cause to hate. To me she is an- 
 other genuine Eve, the great mother of womankind ; so are they all, 
 only they will not all confess it." 
 
 With abundance of such talk, in which Laertes very vehemently 
 exhibited his spleen against the fair sex, without, however, giving 
 any cause for it, they arrived at the forest ; into which Wilhelm en- 
 tered in no joyful mood, the speeches of Laertes having again revived 
 in him the memory of his relation to Mariana. Not far from a shady 
 well, among some old and noble trees, they found Philina sitting by 
 herself at a stone table. Seeing them, she struck up a merry song ; 
 and, when Laertes asked for her companions, she cried out : *' I have 
 already cozened them, I have already had my laugh at them, and sent 
 them a-traveling, as they deserved. By the way hither I had put to 
 proof their liberality ; and finding that they were a couple of your close- 
 fisted gentry, I immediately determined to have amends of them. On 
 arriving at the inn, they asked the waiter what was to be had. He, with 
 his customary glibuess of tongue, reckoned overall that could be found 
 in the house, and more than could be found. I noticed their perplexity ; 
 they looked at one another, stammered, and inquired about the cost. 
 ' What is the use of all this studying ? ' said I ; ' the table is the lady's 
 business, allow me to manage it.' I immediately began ordering a 
 most unconscionable dinner ; for which many necessary articles 
 would require to be sent for from the neighborhood. The waiter, of 
 whom, by a wry mouth or two, I liad made a confidant, at last helped
 
 BOOK 11. CHAPTER IV. 79 
 
 me out ; and so, by the image of a sumptuous feast, we tortured tliem 
 to such a degree that they fairly determined on having a walk in the 
 forest, from which I imagine we shall look with clear eyes if we 
 see them come back. I have laughed a quarter of an hour for my 
 own behoof ; I shall laugh forever when I think of the looks they 
 had." At table, Laertes told of similar adventures : they got into 
 the track of recounting ludicrous stories, mistakes and dexterous 
 cheats. 
 
 A young man, of their acquaintance from the town, came gliding 
 through the wood with a book in his hand ; he sat down by them, 
 and began praising the beauty of the place. He directed their 
 attention to the murmuring of the brook, to the waving of the 
 boughs, to the checkered lights and shadows, and the music of the 
 birds. Philiua commenced a little song of the cuckoo, which did 
 not seem at all to exhilarate the man of taste : he very soon made 
 his compliments and went on. 
 
 " O that I might never hear more of nature, and scenes of nature ! " 
 cried Philina as soon as he was gone: "there is nothing in the 
 world more intolerable than to hear people reckon up the pleasures 
 you enjoy. When the day is bright you go to walk, as to dance 
 when you hear a tune played. But who would think a moment on 
 the music or the weather? It is the dancer that interests us, not the 
 violin ; and to look upon a pair of bright black eyes is the life of a 
 pair of blue ones. But what on earth have we to do with wells, and 
 brooks, and old rotten lindens?" She was sitting opposite to Wil- 
 helm, and while speaking so, she looked into his eyes with a glance 
 which he could not hinder from piercing at least to the very door of 
 his heart. 
 
 "You are right," replied he, not without embarrassment; "man 
 is ever the most interesting object to man, and perhaps should be 
 the only one that interests. Whatever else surrounds us is but the i 
 eleinent in which we live, or else the instrument which we employ. I 
 The more we devote ourselves to such things, the more we attend to 
 and feel concern in them, the weaker will our sense of our own dig- 
 nity become, the weaker our feelings for society. Men who put a 
 great value on gardens, buildings, clothes, ornaments, or any other 
 sort of property, grow less social and pleasant ; they lose sight of 
 their brethren, whom very few can succeed in collecting about them 
 and entertaining. Have you not observed it on the stage? A good 
 actor makes us very soon forget the awkwardness and meanness of 
 paltry decorations ; but a splendid theater is the very thing which 
 first makes us truly feel the want of proper actors." 
 
 After dinner Philina sat down among the long overshaded grass, 
 and commanded both her friends to fetch her flowers in great quan- 
 tities. She wreathed a complete garland, and put it round her 
 head : it made her look extremely charming. The flowers were still 
 SuflBcient for another ; this too she plaited, while both the young men
 
 80 MEISTER'8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 sat beside her. When at last, amid infinite mirth and sportfulness, 
 it was completed, she pressed it on Wilhelm's head with the greatest 
 dignity, and shifted the posture of it more than once till it seemed 
 to her properly adjusted. " And I, it appears, must go empty," said 
 Laertes. 
 
 " Not by any means ; you shall not have good reason to complain," 
 replied Philina, taking off the garland from her own head and put- 
 ting it on his. 
 
 " If we were rivals," said Laertes, " we might now dispute very 
 warmly which of us stood higher in thy favor." 
 
 " And the more fools you," said she, while she bent herself 
 towards him, and offered him her lips to kiss ; and then immediately 
 turned round, threw her arm about Wilhelm, and bestowed a kind 
 salute on him also. " Which of them tastes best?" said she archly. 
 
 " Surprisingly ! " exclaimed Laertes : " it seems as if nothing else 
 bad ever such a tang of wormwood in it." 
 
 " As little wormwood," she replied, " as any gift that a man may 
 enjoy without envy and without conceit". But now," cried she, "I 
 should like to have an hour's dancing, and after that we must look 
 to our vaulters." 
 
 Accordingly they went into the house, and there found music in 
 readiness. Philina was a beautiful dancer, she animated both her 
 companions.v Nor was Wilhelm without skill ; but he wanted care- 
 ful practice, a defect which his two friends voluntarily took charge 
 of remedying. 
 
 In these amusements the time passed on insensibly ; it was already 
 late when they returned. The rope-dancers had commenced their 
 operations. A multitude of people had again assembled in the 
 square ; and our friends, on alighting, were struck by the appear- 
 ance of a tumult iu the crowd, occasioned by a throng of men rush- 
 ing towards the door of the inn, which Wilhelm had now turned his 
 face to. He sprang forward to see what it was ; and pressing tlirough 
 the people, he was struck with horror to observe the master of the 
 rope-dancing company dragging poor Mignon by the hair out of the 
 house, and unmercifully beating her little body with the handle of a 
 whip 
 
 Wilhelm darted on the man like lightning, and seized him by the 
 collar. " Quit the child !" he cried in a furious tone, "or one of us 
 shall never leave this spot ;" and so speaking, he grasped the fellow 
 by the throat with a force which only rage could have lent him. The 
 showman, on the point of choking, let go the child, and endeavored to 
 defend himself against his new assailant. But some people, who had 
 felt compassion for Jlignon, yet had not dared to begin a quarrel 
 for her, now laid hold of the rope-dancer, wrenched his whip away, 
 and threatened him with great fiercen(>ss and abuse. Being now re- 
 duced to the weapons of his mouth, he began bullying and cursing 
 horribly : the lazy, worthless urchin, he said, would not do her duty;
 
 BOOK 11. CHAPTER IV. 81 
 
 refused to perform tlie egg-dance, which he had promised to the pub- 
 lic ; he would beat her to death, and no one should hinder him. He 
 tried to get loose, and seek the child, who had crept away among the 
 crowd. Wilhelm held him back, and said sternly: "You shall 
 neither see nor touch her, till you have explained before a magistrate 
 where you stole her. I will pursue you to every extremity ; you shall 
 not escape me." These words, wdiich Wilhelm uttered in heat, with- 
 out thought or purpose, out of some vague feeling, or, if you will, 
 out of -inspiration, soon brought the raging showman to composure. 
 "What have I to do with the useless brat? "cried he. " Pay me 
 what her clothes cost, and make of her what you please ; we shall 
 settle it to-night." And, being liberated, he made haste to resume 
 his interrupted operations, and to calm the irritation of the public by 
 some striking displays of his craft. 
 
 So soon as all was still again, Wilhelm commenced a seai'ch for 
 Mignon, whom, however, he could nowhere find. Some said they 
 had seen her on the street, others on the roofs of adjoining houses ; 
 but, after seeking unsuccessfully in all quarters, he was forced to 
 content himself, and wait to see if she would not again turn up of 
 herself. 
 
 In the meantime, Narciss had come into the house, and Wilhelm 
 set to question him about the birthplace and history of the child. 
 Monsieur Narciss knew nothing about these things ; for he had not 
 long been in the company ; but in return he recited, with much volu- 
 bility and levity, various particulars of his own fortune. Upon Wil- 
 helm's wishing him joy of the great approbation he had gained, 
 Narciss expressed himself as if exceedingly indifferent on that point. 
 "People laugh at us," he said, "and admire our feats of skill ; but 
 their admiration does nothing for us. The master has to pay us, and 
 may raise the funds where he pleases." He then took his leave, and 
 was setting off in great haste. 
 
 At the question. Whither he was bent so fast ? the dog gave a smile, 
 and admitted that his figure and talents had acquired for him a more 
 solid species of favor than the huzzahing of the multitude. He had 
 been invited by some young ladies, who desired much to become 
 acquainted with him, and he was afraid it would be midnight before 
 he could get all his visits over. He proceeded with the greatest can- 
 dor to detail liis adventures ; he would have given the names of his 
 patronesses, their streets and houses, had not Wilhelm waved such 
 indiscretion, and politely dismissed him. 
 
 Laertes had meanwhile been entertaining Landrinette : he declared 
 that she was fully worthy to be and to remain a woman. 
 
 Our friend next proceeded to his bargain with the showman for 
 Mignon. Thirty crowns was the price set upon her ; and for this 
 sum the black-bearded hot Italian entirely surrendered all his claims ; 
 but of her history, or parentage, he would discover nothing ; only 
 that she had fallen into his hands at the death of his brother, who,
 
 82 MEISTER'S APPIiENTIC'ESHJP. 
 
 by reason of liis admirable skill, had usually been named the Great 
 Devil. 
 
 Next morning was chiefly spent in searching for the child. It was 
 in vain that they rummaged every hole and corner of the house and 
 neighborhood : the child had vanished, and Wilhelm was afraid she 
 might have leapt into some pool of water, or destroyed herself in 
 some other way. 
 
 Philina's charms could not dissipate his inquietude ; he passed (i 
 dreary thoughtful day. Nor at evening could the utmost efforts ol' 
 the tumblers and dancers, exerting all their powers to gratify the 
 public, divert the current of his thoughts, or clear away the clouds 
 from his mind. 
 
 By the concourse of people flocking from all places round, the num- 
 bers had greatly increased on this occasion ; the general approbation 
 was like a snowball rolling itself into a monstrous size. The feat of 
 leaping over swords, and through the cask with paper ends, made a 
 great sensation. The strong man, too, produced a universal feeling 
 of mingled astonishment and horror, when he laid his head and feet 
 on a couple of separate stools, and then allowed some sturdy smiths 
 to place a stithy on the unsupported part of his body, and hammer a 
 horse shoe till it was completely made by means of it. 
 
 The Hercules's strength, as they called it, was a no less wonderful 
 affair. A row of men stood up ; then another row, upon their shoul- 
 ders ; then women and young lads, supported in like manner on the 
 second row ; so that finally a living pyramid was formed, the peak 
 being ornamented by a child, placed on its head, and dressed out in the 
 shape of a ball and weather-vane. Such a sight, never witnessed in 
 those parts before, gave a worthy termination to the whole perform- 
 ance. Narciss and Landrinette were then borne in litters, on the 
 shoulders of the rest, along the chief streets of the town, amid the 
 triumphant shouts of the people. Ribbons, nosegays, silks, were 
 thrown upon them ; all pressed to get a sight of them. Each thought 
 himself happy if he could behold them, and be honored with a look 
 of theirs. 
 
 " What actor, what author, nay what man of any c\ass, would not 
 regard himself as on the summit of his wishes, could he, by a noble 
 saying or a worthy action, produce so universal an impression V What 
 a precious emotion would it give, if one could disseminate generous, 
 exalted, manly feelings with electric force and speed, and rouse assem- 
 bled thousands into such rapture, as these people, by their bodily 
 alertness, have done ! If one could communicate to thronging multi- 
 tudes a fellow-feeling in all that belongs to man, by the portraying of 
 happiness and mLsery, of wisdom and folly, nay of absurdity and 
 silliness ; could kindle and thrill their inmost souls, and set their 
 stagnant nature into movement, free, vehement and ])ure ! " So said 
 our friend : and as neither Laertes nor Philiua showed any disposition 
 to take part in such a strain, he entertaincjd himself with these dar-
 
 BOOK II. CHAPTER V. 83 
 
 ling speculations, walking up and down tlie streets till late at night, 
 and again pursuing, with all the force and vivacity of a liberated 
 imagination, his old desire to have all that was good and noble and 
 great embodied and shown forth by the theatric j,rt. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Next morning, the rope-dancers, not without much parade and bus- 
 tle, having gone away, Mignon immediately appeared, and came into 
 the parlor as Wilhelm and Laertes were busy fencing. " Where hast 
 thou been hid ? " said Wilhelm in a friendly tone. ' ' Thou hast given us 
 a deal of anxiety." The child looked at him, and answered nothing. 
 " Thou art ours now," cried Laertes, " we have bought thee." "For 
 how much '? " inquired the child quite coolly. " For a hundred duc- 
 ats," said the other ; " pay them again, and thou art free." " Is that 
 very much? " she asked. " O yes ! thou must now be a good child." 
 " I will try," she said. 
 
 From that moment she observed strictly what services the waiter 
 had to do for both Jier friends : and after next day, she would not 
 any more let him enter the room. She persisted in doing everything 
 herself ; and accordingly went through her duties, slowly indeed, and 
 sometimes awkwardly, yet completely and with the greatest care. 
 
 She was frequently observed going to a basin of water, and Avashing 
 her face with such diligence and violence, that she almost wore the 
 skin from her cheeks ; till Laertes, by dint of questions and reproofs, 
 learned that she Avas striving by all means to get the paint from her 
 skin ; and that in her zealous endeavors towards this object, she had 
 mistaken the redness produced by rubbing for the most obdurate dye. 
 They set her right on this point, and she ceased her efforts ; after 
 which, ha\-ing come again to her natural state, she exhibited a fine 
 brown complexion, beautiful, though sparingly intermingled with 
 red. 
 
 The siren charms of Philina, the mysterious presence of the child, 
 produced more impression on our friend than he liked to confess ; he 
 passed several days in that strange society, endeavoring to elude self- 
 reproaches by a diligent practice of fencing and dancing, accomplish- 
 ments which he believed might not again be put within his reach so 
 conveniently. 
 
 It was with great surprise, and not without a certain satisfaction, 
 that he one day observed Herr Melina and his wife alight at the inn. 
 After the first glad salutation, they inquired about " the lady-manager 
 and the other actors ;" and learned, with astonishment and terror, 
 that the lady -manager had long since gone away, and her actors, to a 
 very few, dispersed thenaselves about the country.
 
 84 MEISTER'S APPRENTIGESSlP. 
 
 This couple, subsequently to their marriage, in which, aS we know, 
 our friend did his best to serve them, had been traveling about in 
 various quarters, seeking an engagement, without finding any ; and 
 had at last been directed to this little town by some persons who met 
 them on their journey, and said there was a good theater in the 
 place. 
 
 Melina by no means pleased the lively Laertes, when introduced to 
 him, any more than his wife did Philina. Both heartily wished to be 
 rid of these new-comers ; and Wilhelm could inspire them with no 
 favorable feelings on the subject, though he more than once assured 
 them that the Melinas were very worthy people. 
 
 Indeed, the previous merry life of our three adventurers was inter- 
 fered with by this extension of their society, in more ways than one. 
 Melina had taken up his quarters in the inn where Philina stayed, 
 and he very soon began a system of cheapening and higgling. He 
 would have better lodging, more sumptuous diet, and readier attend- 
 ance, for a smaller charge. In a short while, the landlord and waiter 
 showed very rueful looks ; for whereas the others, to get pleasantly 
 along, had expressed no discontent with anything, and paid instantly, 
 that they might avoid thinking longer of payment, Melina now in- 
 sisted on regulating every meal, and investigating its contents before- 
 hand ; a species of service for which Philina named him, without 
 scruple, a ruminating animal. 
 
 Yet more did the merry girl hate Melina's wife. Frau Melina was 
 a young woman not without culture, but woefully defective in soul 
 and spirit. She could declaim not badly, and kept declaiming con- 
 stantly ; but it was easy to observe that her performances were little 
 more tlian recitations of words. She labored a few detached passages, 
 but never could express the feeling of the whole. Withal, however, 
 she was seldom disagreeable to any one, especially to men. On the 
 contrary, people who enjoyed her acquaintance commonly ascribed to 
 her a fine understanding ; for she was what might be called a kind of 
 spiritual chnmeleon, ov tnker-on* Any friend whose favor she had 
 need of, she could flatter with peculiar adroitness ; could give in to 
 his ideas so long as she could understand them ; and, when ihey went 
 beyond her own horizon, could hail with ecstasy such new and 
 brilliant visions. She itnderstood well when to speak and when to 
 keep silence ; and though her disposition was not spiteful, she could 
 spy out with great expertness where another's weak side lay. 
 
 * Ancmpflnderm (feeler-by, fecler-accordinij-to) is the new imtranslntable word 
 poor!}' paraphrased so. A new German word, first used here, the like of which 
 might be useful in all languages, for it desiguatea a class of persons extant in all 
 coimtrieg.— £o.
 
 BOOK II. CHAPTER VI 85 
 
 CHAPTER VI, 
 
 Melina, in the meantime, had been making strict inquiry about 
 the wrecks of tlie late theatrical establishment. The wardrobe, as 
 well as decorations, had been pawned with some traders ; and a notary 
 had been empowered, under certain conditions, to dispose of them by 
 sale, should purchasers occur. Melina wished to see this ware ; and 
 he took Wilhelui with him. No sooner was the room opened, than 
 our friend felt towards its contents a kind of inclination, which he 
 would not confess to himself. Sad as was the state of the blotched 
 and tarnished decorations ; little showy as the Turkish and pagan 
 garments, the old farce-coats for men and women, the cowls for en- 
 chanters, priests and Jews, might be, he was not able to exclude the 
 feeling, that the happiest moments of his life had been spent in a 
 similar magazine of frippery. Could Melina have seen into his heart, 
 he would have urged him more pressingly to lay out a sum of money 
 in liberating tliese scattered fragments, in furbishing them up, and 
 again combining them into a beautiful whole. " What a happy man 
 could I be," cried Melina, " had I but two hundred crowns, to get 
 into my hands, for a beginning, these fundamental necessaries of a 
 theater ! How soon should I get up a little playhouse, that would 
 draw contributions from the town and neighborhood, and maintain 
 us all ! " Wilhelm v/as silent. They left these treasures of the stage 
 to be again locked up, and both went away in a reflective mood. 
 
 Thenceforth Melina talked of nothing else but projects and plans 
 for setting up a theater, and gaining profit by it. He tried to interest 
 Philina and Laertes in his schemes ; and proposals were made to 
 Wilhelm about advancing money, and taking them as his security. 
 On this occasion, Wilhelm first clearly perceived that he was linger- 
 ing too long here : he excused himself, and and set about making 
 preparations for departure. 
 
 In the meantime, Mignon's form and manner of existence was 
 growing more attractive to him every day. In her whole system of 
 proceedings there was something very singular. She never walked 
 up or down the stairs, but jumped. She would spring along by the 
 railing, and before you were aware, would be sitting quietly above on 
 the landing. Wilhelm had observed, also, that she had a different 
 sort of salutation for each individual. For himself, it had of late 
 been with her arms crossed upon her breast. Often for the whole day - 
 she was mute, xlt times she answered various questions more freely, 
 yet always strangely ; so that you could not determine whether it was 
 caused by shrewd sense, or ignorance of the language ; for she spoke 
 1^1 broken German, interlaced with French and Italian. In Wilhelm's 
 service she was indefatigable, and up before the sun. On the other
 
 86 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 haDd, she vanislied early in the evening, went to sleep in a little room 
 upon the bare tioor, and could not by any means be induced to take 
 a bed or even a palliasse. He often found her washing herself. Her 
 clothes, too, were kept scrupulously clean, though nearly all about 
 her was two or three plies thick. Wilhelm was moreover told that 
 she went every morning early to hear mass. He followed her on one 
 occasion, and saw her kneeling down with a rosary in a corner of the 
 church, and praying devoutly. She did not observe him ; and he re- 
 turned home, forming many a conjecture about this appearance, yet 
 unable to arrive at any probable conclusion. 
 
 A new application from Melina for a sum of money to redeem the 
 often-mentioned stage apparatus, caused Wilhehn to think more 
 seriously than ever about setting off. He proposed writjng to his peo- 
 ple, who for a long time had heard no tidings of him, by^^e very ear- 
 liest post. He accordingly commenced a letter to Werner ; and had 
 advanced a considerable way with the history of his adventures, in 
 recounting which he had more than once unintentionally swerved a 
 little from the truth, when, to his vexation and surprise, he observed, 
 upon the back of his sheet, some verses which he had been copying 
 from his album for Madam Melina. Out of humor at this mistake, 
 he tore the paper in pieces, and put off repeating his confession till 
 the next post-day. 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 OxjK party was now again collected ; and Philina, who always kept 
 a sharp look-out on every horse or carriage that passetl by, exclaimed, 
 with great eagerness : "Our pedant! Here comes our dearest pedant ! 
 * Who the deuce is it he has with him ? " Speaking thus, she beck- 
 oned at the window, and the vehicle drew up. 
 
 A woeful-looking genius, whom, by his shabby coat of grayish brown, 
 ^ and his ill-conditioned lower garments, you must have taken for some 
 unprosperous preceptor, of the sort that molder in our universities, 
 now descended from the carriage, and, taking off his hat to salute 
 Philina, discovered an ill-powdered but yet very stiff periwig, while 
 Philina threw a hundred kisses of the hand towards him. 
 
 As Philina's chief enjoyment lay in loving one class of men, and 
 being loved by them ; so there was a second and hardly inferior satis- 
 faction, wherewith she entertained herself as frequently as possible ; 
 and this consisted in hoodwinking and jmssing jokes upon the other 
 class, whom at such moments she happened not to love : all which 
 she could accomplish in a very sprightly style. 
 
 Amid the flourish which she made in receiving this old friend, no 
 attention was bestowed upon the rest who followed him. Yet among 
 the party were an oldish man and two young girls, whom Wilhelm
 
 BOOK II. CHAPTER VII 87 
 
 thought he knew. Accordingly it turned out, that he had often seen 
 them all, some years ago, in a company then playing in his native 
 town. The daughters had grown since that period ; the old man was 
 altered. He commonly enacted those good-hearted boisterous old gen- 
 tlemen, whom the German theater is never without, and whom, in 
 common life, one also frequently enough falls in with. For as it is 
 the character of our countrymen to do good, and cause it, without 
 pomp or circumstance, so they seldom consider that there is likewise 
 a mode of doing what is vight with grace and dignity ; more fre- 
 quently, indeed, they yield to the spirit of contradiction, and fall into 
 the error of deforming their dearest virtue by a surly mode of put- 
 ting it in practice. 
 
 Such parts our actor could play very well ; and he played them so 
 often and exclusively, that he had himself taken up the same turn of 
 proceeding in his ordinary life. 
 
 On recognizing him, Wilhelm was seized with a strong commotion : 
 he recollected how often he had seen this man on the stage with his 
 beloved Mariana : he still heard him scolding, still heard the small 
 soothing voice, with which in many characters she had to meet his 
 rugged temper. 
 
 The first anxious question put to the strangers, Wliether they had 
 heard of any situation in their travels ? was answered, alas, with No ; 
 and to complete the information, it was farther added, that all the 
 companies they had fallen in with were not only supplied with actors, 
 but many of them were afraid lest, on account of the approaching 
 war, they should be forced to separate. Old Boisterous, with his 
 daughters, moved by spleen and love of change, had given up an ad- 
 vantageous engagement ; then meeting with the pedant by the way, 
 they had hired a carriage to come hither : where, as they found, good 
 counsel was still dear, needful to have, and difficult to get. 
 
 The time while the rest were talking very keenly of their circum- 
 stances, Wilhelm spent in thought, lie longed to speak in private 
 with the old man ; he wished and feared to hear of Mariana, and felt 
 himself in the greatest disquietude. 
 
 The pretty looks of the stranger damsels could not call him from 
 his dream ; but a war of words which now arose, awakened his 
 attention. It was Friedrich, the fair-haired boy, who used to attend 
 Philina, stubbornly refusing, on this occasion, to cover the table and 
 bring up dinner. " I engaged to serve you," he cried ; " but not to 
 wait on everybody." They fell into a hot contest. Philina insisted 
 that he should do his duty ; and as he obstinately refused, she told 
 him plainly he might go about his business. 
 
 " You think, perhaps, I cannot leave you '?" cried he, sturdily ; then 
 went to pack up his bundle, and soon hastily quitted the house. 
 
 " Go, Mignon," said Philina, " and get us what we want : tell the 
 waiter, and help him to attend us." 
 
 Mignon came before Wilhelm, and asked in her laconic way ; " Shall
 
 88 MEISIER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 I? May I?" To wliicli Willielin answered : " Do all that the lady 
 bids tliee, child." 
 
 She accordingly took charge of everything, and waited on the 
 guests the whole evening, with the utmost carefulness. After dinner, 
 Wilhelni proposed to have a walk with the old man alone. Succeed- 
 ing in this, after many questions about his late wanderings, the con- 
 versation turned upon the former company, and Wilhelm. hazarded 
 a question touching Mariana. 
 
 "Do not sj^eak to me of that despicable creatiire," cried the old 
 man; "I have sworn to think of her no more." Terrified at this 
 speech, Wilhelm felt still more embarrassed, as the old man proceeded 
 to vituperate her fickleness and wantonness. Most gladly would our 
 friend have broken off the conversation ; but now it was impossible : 
 he was obliged to undergo the whole tumultuous effusions of this 
 strange old gentleman. 
 
 " I am ashamed," continued he, "that I felt such a friendship for 
 her. Yet had you known the girl better, you would excuse me. She 
 was so pretty, so natural and good, so pleasing, in every sense so tol- 
 erable, I could never have supposed that ingratitude and impudence 
 were to prove the chief features of her character." 
 
 Wilhelm had nerved himself to hear the worst of her ; when all 
 at once he observed, with astonishment, that the old man's tones grew 
 milder, his voice faltered, and he took out his handlterchief to dry 
 the tears, which at last began to trickle down his cheeks. 
 
 •" What is the matter with you?" cried Wilhelm. "What is it 
 that suddenly so changes the current of your feelings ? Conceal it 
 not from me. I take a deeper interest in the fate of this girl than 
 you suppose. Only tell me all. " 
 
 " I have not much to say," replied the old man, again taking iiphis 
 earnest angry tone. " I have suffered more from her than I shall 
 ever forgive. She had always a kind of trust in me. I loved her as 
 my own daughter ; indeed, while my wife lived, I had formed a reso- 
 lution to take the creature to my own house, and save her from the 
 hands of that old crone, from whose guidance I boded no good. But 
 my wife died, and the project went to nothing. 
 
 " About the end our stay in your native town, it is not quite three 
 years ago, I noticed a visible sadness about her. I questioned her, 
 but she evaded me. At last we set out on our journey. She traveled 
 in the same coach with me ; and I soon observed, what she herself 
 did not long deny, that she was with child, and suffering the greatest 
 terror, lest our manager might turn her off. In fact, in a short wliile 
 he did make the discovery ; immediately threw up her contract, which 
 at any rate was only for six weeks ; paid off her arrears ; and in spite 
 of all entreaties, left her behind, in the miserable inn of a little vil- 
 lage. 
 
 " Devil take all wanton jilts ! " cried the old man, with a splenetic 
 tone, " and especially this one, that has spoiled me so many hours of
 
 BOOK II. CHAPTER VIIL 89 
 
 my life ! Why sliould I keep talking how I myself took charge of 
 her, what I did for her, what I spent on her, how in absence I pro- 
 vided for her? I would rather throw my purse into the ditch, and 
 spend my time in nursing mangy whelps, than ever more bestow the 
 smallest care on such a thing. Pshaw ! at first I got letters of thanks, 
 notice of places she was staying at ; and, finally, no word at all, not 
 even an acknowledgment of the money I had sent to pay the ex- 
 penses of her lying-in. O ! the treachery and the fickleness of women 
 are rightly matched, to get a comfortable living for themselves, and 
 to give an honest fellow many heavy hours." 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Wilhelm's feelings, on returning home after this conversation, 
 may be easily conceived. All his old wounds had been torn up afresh ; 
 and the sentiment, that Mariana was not wholly unworthy of his love, 
 had again been brought to life. The interest which the old man had 
 shown about her fate, the praises he gave her against his will, dis- 
 played her again in all her attractiveness. Nay, even the bitter ac- 
 cusations brought against her contained nothing that could lower her 
 in Wilhelm's estimation ; for he, as well as she, was guilty in all 
 her aberrations. Nor did even her final silence seem greatly blam- 
 able ; it rather inspired him with mournful thoughts. He saw lier, 
 as a frail, ill-succored mother, wandering helplessly about the world ; 
 wandering perhaps with his own child. What he knew, and what he 
 knew not, awoke in him the painfulest emotions. 
 
 Mignon had been waiting for him : she lighted him upstairs. On 
 setting down the light, she begged that he would allow her, that even- 
 ing to compliment him with a piece of her art. He would rather 
 have declined this, particularly as he knew not what it was ; but he 
 had not the heart to refuse anything this kind creature wished. After 
 a little while she again came in. She carried a little carpet below her 
 arm, which she then spread out upon the floor. Wilhelm said she 
 might proceed. She thereupon brought four candles, and placed one 
 upon each corner of the carpet. A little basket of eggs which she 
 next carried in, made her purpose clearer. Carefully measuring her 
 steps, she then walked to and fro on the carpet, spreading out the 
 eggs in certain figures and positions : which done, she called in a 
 man that was waiting in the house, and could play on the violin. He 
 retired with his instrument into a corner ; she tied a band about her 
 eyes, gave a signal, and, like a piece of wheel-work set a-going, she 
 began moving the same instant as the music, accompanying her beats 
 and the notes of the tune with the strokes of a pair of castanets. 
 
 Lightly, nimbly, quickly, and with hairsbreadth accuracy, she car-
 
 90 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 ried on the dance. She skipped so sharply and surely along between 
 the eggs, and trod so closely down beside them, that you would have 
 thouglit every instant she must trample one of them in pieces, or kick 
 the rest away in her rapid turns. By no means ! She touched no 
 one of them, though winding herself through their mazes Avith all 
 kinds of steps, wide and narrow, nay even with leaps, and at last 
 half-kneeling. 
 
 Constant as the movement of a clock she ran her course ; and the 
 strange music, at each repetition of the tune, gave a new impulse to 
 the dance, recommencing and again rushing oft" as at first. Wilhelm 
 was quite led away by this singular spectacle ; he forgot his cares ; 
 he followed every movement of the dear little creature, and felt sur- 
 prised to'see how finely her character unfolded itself as she proceeded 
 in the dance. 
 
 Rigid, sharp,' cold, vehement and in soft postures, stately rather 
 than attractive ; such was the light in which it showed her. At this 
 moment, he experienced at once all the emotions he had ever felt for 
 Mignon. He longed to incorporate this forsaken being with his own 
 heart ; to take her in his arms, and Avith a father's love to awaken in 
 her the joy of existence. 
 
 The dance being ended, she rolled the eggs together softly with her 
 foot into a little heap, left none behind, harmed none ; then placed 
 herself beside it, taking the bandage from her eyes, and concluding 
 her performance with a little bow. 
 
 Wilhelm thanked her for having executed, so prettily and unex- 
 pectedly, a dance he had long wished to see. He patted her ; was 
 sorry she had tired herself so much. He promised her a new suit of 
 clothes ; to which she vehemently replied : " Thy color ! " This, 
 too, he promised her, though not well knowing what she meant by 
 it. She then lifted up the eggs, took the carpet iinder her arm, asked 
 if he wanted anything farther, and skipped out of the door. 
 
 The musician, being questioned, said that, for some time, she had 
 taken much trouble in often singing over the tune of this dance, the 
 well-known fandango, to him, and training him till he could play it 
 accurately. For his labor she had likewise offered him some money, 
 which, however, he would not accept. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 After a restless night, which our friend spent gom^tiines waking, 
 sometimes oppressed with un))IeHsant dreams, seeing Mariana now in 
 in all her beauty, now in woeful case, at one time with a child on her 
 arm, then soon bereaved of it, tlie morning had scarcely davvneil, 
 when Mignon entered with a tailor, SJie brought some gray cloth
 
 BOOK II. CHAPTER IX. 91 
 
 and blue taffeta, signifying in her own way that she wished to have 
 a new jacket and sailor's trousers, such as she had seen the boys of 
 the town wearing, with blue cuffs and tyers. 
 
 Since the loss of Mariana, Wilhelm had laid aside all gay colors. 
 He had used himself to gray, the garment of the shades ; and only 
 perhaps a sky-blue lining, or little collar of that dye, in some degree 
 enlivened his sober garb. Miguon, eager to wear his colors, hurried 
 on the tailor, who engaged to have his work soon ready. 
 
 The exercise in dancing and fencing, which our friend took this 
 day with Laertes, did not prosper in their hands. Indeed, it was soon 
 interrupted by Melina, who came to show them circumstantially how 
 a little company was now of itself collected, sufficient to exhibit plays 
 in abundance. He renewed the proposal that Wilhelm should ad- 
 vance a little money for setting them in motion : which, however, 
 Wilhelm still declined. 
 
 Ere long Philina and the girls came in, racketing and laughing as 
 usual. They had now devised a fresh excursion ; for change of place 
 and objects was a pleasure after which they always longed. To eat 
 daily in a different spot was their highest wish. On this occasion 
 they proposed a sail. 
 
 The boat, in which they were to fall down the pleasant windings 
 of the river, had already been engaged by the pedant. Philina 
 urged them on : ihe party did not linger, and were soon on board. 
 
 " What shall we take to now?" said Philina, when all had placed 
 themselves upon the benches. 
 
 " The readiest thing," replied Laertes, " were for us to extemporize 
 a play. Let each take a part that suits his character, and we shall 
 see how we get along." 
 
 " Excellent ! " said Wilhelm. " In a society where there is no dis- 
 simulation, but where each without disguise pursues the bent of his 
 own humor, elegance and satisfaction cannot long continue ; and 
 where dissimulation always reigns, they do not enter at all. It will 
 not be amiss, then, that we take up dissimulation to begin with ; and 
 then, behind our masks, be as candid as we please." 
 
 " Yes," said Laertes, "it is on this account that one goes on so 
 pleasantly with women ; they never show themselves in their natural 
 form. " 
 
 " That is to say," replied Madam Melina, " they are not so vain as 
 men, who conceive themselves to be always amiable enough, just as 
 nature has produced them." 
 
 In the meantime the river led them between pleasant groves and 
 hills, between gardens and vineyards ; and the young women, espe- 
 cially Madam Melina, expressed their rapture at the landscape. The 
 latter even began to recite, in solemn style, a pretty poem of the de- 
 scriptive sort, upon a similar scene of nature ; but Philina interrupted 
 her with the proposal of a law, that no one should presume to speak 
 of any inanimate object. On the other hand, she zealously urged
 
 92 MEISTER'8 APPBENT1GE8HIP. 
 
 on tlieir project of an extempore play. Old Boisterous was to be a 
 half-pay olficer ; Laertes a feuciug-niaster taking bis vacation ; the 
 pedant a Jew ; sbe berself would act a Tyrolese, leaving to tbe rest 
 to choose characters according to their several pleasures. They would 
 suppose themselves to be a party of total strangers to each other, who 
 had just met on board a merchant ship. 
 
 She immediately began to play her part with the Jew ; and a uni- 
 versal cheerfulness diffused itself among them. 
 
 They had not sailed far, when the skipper stopped in his course, 
 asking permission of the company to take in a person standing on the 
 shore, who had made a sign to him. 
 
 " That is just what we needed," cried Philina, " a chance passenger 
 was wanting to comjilete the traveling party." 
 
 A handsome man came on board ; whom, by his dress and his dig- 
 nified mien, you might have taken for a clergyman. He saluted the 
 party, who thanked him in their own way, and soon made known to 
 him the nature of tlieir game. The stranger immediately engaged to 
 play the part of a country parson ; which, in fact, he accomplished 
 in the adroitest manner, to the admiration of all ; now admonishing, 
 now telling stories, showing some weak points, yet never losing their 
 respect. 
 
 In the meantime, every one who had made a false step in his part, 
 or swerved from his character, had been obliged to forfeit a pledge ; 
 Philina had gathered them with the greatest care ; and esjiecially 
 threatened the reverend gentleman with many kisses, though he him- 
 self had never been at fault. Melina, on the other hand, was com- 
 pletely fleeced ; shirt-buttons, buckles, every movable about his 
 person was in Philina's hands. He was trying to enact an English 
 traveler, and could not by any means get into the spirit of his 
 part. 
 
 Meanwhile the time had passed away very pleasantly. Each had 
 strained his fancy and his wit to the utmost, and each had garnished 
 his part with agreeable and entertaining jests. Thus comfortably 
 occupied ..they readied the place where they meant to pass the day ; 
 and Wilhelm going out to walk with the clergyman, as both from 
 his appearance and late character he persisted in naming him, soon 
 fell into an interesting conversation. 
 
 "I think this practice," said the stranger, "very useful among 
 actors, and even in the company of friends and acquaintances. It is 
 the best mode of drawing men out of themselves, and leading them, 
 by a circuitous path, back into themselves again. It should be a cus- 
 tom with every troup of players to practice in this manner : and the 
 public would assuredly be no loser, if every month an unwritten 
 piece were brought forward ; in which, of course, the players had 
 prepared themselves by several rehearsals." 
 
 " One should not, then," replied our friend, " consider an extem- 
 pore piece as, strictly speaking, composed on the spur of the moment ;
 
 BOOK II. CHAPTER IX. 93 
 
 but as a piece of which the plan, action and division of the scenes 
 were given, the filling up of all this being left to the player." 
 
 " Quite right," said the stranger ; " and in regard to this very fill- 
 ing up, such a piece, were the players once trained to these perform- 
 ances, would profit greatly. Not in regard to the mere words, it is 
 true ; for by a careful selection of these, the studious writer may 
 certainly adorn his work ; but in regard to the gestures, looks, excla- 
 matioiis, and everything of that nature ; in short, to the mute and 
 half-mute play of the dialogue, which seems by degrees fading away 
 among us altogether. There are indeed some players in Grermany, 
 whose bodies figure what they think and feel ; who, by their silence, 
 their delays, their looks, their slight graceful movements, can prepare 
 the audience for a speech, and by a pleasant sort of pantomime com- 
 bine the pauses of the dialogue with the general whole ; but such a 
 practice as this, co-operating with a happy natural turn, and training 
 it to compete with the author, is far from being so habitual as, for 
 the comfort of play-going people, were to be desired." 
 
 "But will not a happy natural turn," said Wilhelm, "as the first 
 and last requisite, of itself conduct the player like every other artist, 
 nay, perhaps every other man, to the lofty mark he aims at "? " 
 
 " The first and the last, the beginning and the end, it may well be ; 
 but in the middle, many things will still be wanting to an artist, if 
 instruction, and early instruction too, have not previously made that 
 of him which he was meant to be ; and perhaps for the man of genius 
 it is worse in this respect than for the man possessed of only common 
 capabilities ; the one may much more easily be misiustructed, and be 
 driven far more violently into false courses, than the other." 
 
 "But," said Wilhelm, "will not genius save itself, not heal the 
 wounds which itself has inflicted?" 
 
 "Only to a very small extent, and with great difl[iculty," said the 
 other, " or j^Pi'lifips not at all. Let no one think that he can conquer 
 the first impressions of his youth. If he has grown up in enviable 
 freedom, sorrounded with beautiful and noble objects, in constant 
 intercourse with worthy men ; if his masters have taught him what 
 he needed fir.st to know, for comprehending more easily what fol- 
 lowed ; if he has never learned anything which he requires to 
 unlearn ; if his first operations have been so guided, that without 
 altering any < f his habits, he can more easily produce what is excel- 
 lent in future ; then such a one will lead a purer, more perfect and 
 happier life, than another man who has wasted the force of his youth 
 in opposition and error. A great deal is said and written about edu- 
 cation ; yet I meet with very few who can comprehend, and transfer 
 topractice, this simple yet vast idea, which includes within itself all 
 otliefs connected with the subject." 
 
 "That may well be true," said Wilhelm, "for the generality of 
 men are limited enough in their conceptions to suppose that every 
 other should be fashioned by education according to the pattern of
 
 A 
 
 94 MEISTER 'S APPRENTK 'ESHIP. 
 
 themselves. Happy then are those whom fate takes charge of, and 
 educates according to their several natures ! " 
 
 "Fate," said the other smiling, " is an excellent, but most expen- 
 sive schoolmaster. In all cases, I would rather trust to the reason of 
 a human tutor. Fate, for whose wisdom I entertain all imaginable 
 reverence, often finds in Chance, by which it works, an instrument 
 not over mauagable. At least the latter very seldom seems to execute 
 precisely and accurately wha,t the former had determined." 
 
 " You seem to express a very singular opinion," said Wilhelm. 
 
 "Not at all ! " replied the other. " Most of what happens in the 
 world confii-ms my opinion. Do not many incidents at their com 
 mencement show some mighty purport, and generally terminate in 
 sometliing paltry ? " 
 
 " You mean to jest." 
 
 " And as to what concerns the individual man," pursued the other, 
 "is it not so with this likewise? Suppose Fate had appointed one 
 to be a good player ; and vjhy should it not provide us with good 
 players as well as other good things? Chance would perhaps con- 
 duct the youth into some puppet-show ; where, at such an early age, 
 he could not help takhig interest in what was tasteless and despic- 
 able, reckoning insipidities endurable or even pleasing, and thus cor- 
 rupting and misdirecting his primary impressions ; impressions which 
 can never be effaced, and whose intluence, in spite of all our efforts, 
 cling to us in some degree to the very last. " 
 
 "What makes you think of puppet-shows ?" said Wilhelm, not 
 witliout some consternation. 
 
 " It was an accidental instance ; if it does not please you, we shall 
 take another. Suppose Fate had appointed any one to be a great 
 painter, and it pleased Chance that he should pass his youth in sooty 
 huts, in barns and stables ; do you think that such a man would ever 
 be enabled to exalt himself to purity, to nobleness, to freedom of 
 soul? The more keenly he may in his youth have seized on the 
 impure, and tried in his own nuinner to ennoble it, the more power- 
 fully in the remainder of his life will it be revenged on him ; because 
 while he was endeavoring to conquer it, his whole being has become 
 inseparably combined with it. Whoever spends his early years in 
 mean and pitiful society, though at an after period he may have the 
 choice of better, Avill yet constantly look back with longing towards 
 that which he enjoyed of old, and which has left its imi)rp8sion 
 blended with the memory of all his young and unreturuing. pleas- 
 ures." 
 
 From conversation of tliis sort, it is easy to imagine, the rest of the 
 company had gradually withdrawn. Philina, in particular, had stept 
 aside at the very outset. Wilhelm and his comrade now rejoined 
 them by a cross-path. Philina brought out her forfeits, and they 
 had to be redeemed in many different ways. During which business, 
 the stranger, by the most ingenious devices, and by his frank partici
 
 BOOK II. CHAPTER X. 95 
 
 pation in their sports, recommended himself much to all the party, 
 and particularly to the ladies ; and thus, amid joking, singing, kiss- 
 ing, and railleries of all sorts, the hours passed away in the most 
 pleasant manner. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 When our friends began to think of going home, they looked 
 about them for their clergyman ; but he had vanished, and was no- 
 where to be found. 
 
 "It is not polite in the man, who otherwise displayed good breed- 
 ing," said Madam Melina, "to desert a company that welcomed him 
 so kindly, without taking leave." 
 
 " I have all the time been thinking," said Laertes, " where I can 
 have seen this singular man before. I fully intended to ask him 
 about it at parting." 
 
 "I too had the same feeling," said Wilhelm, "and certainly I 
 should not have let him go, till he had told us something more about 
 his circumstances. I am much mistaken if I have not ere now spoken 
 with him somewhere." 
 
 " And you may in truth," said Philina, "be mistaken there. This 
 person seems to have the air of an acquaintance, because he looks like 
 a man, and not like Jack or Kit." 
 
 " What is this ? " said Laertes. " Do not we two look like men ? " 
 
 " I know what I am saying," cried Philina ; " and if you cannot 
 understand me, never mind. In the end my words will be found to 
 require no commentary." 
 
 Two coaches now drove up. All praised the attention of Laertes, 
 who had ordered them. Philina, with Madam Melina, took her place 
 opposite to Wilhelm ; the rest bestowed themselves as they best 
 could. Laertes rode back on Wilhelms horse, which had likewise 
 been brought out. 
 
 Philina was scarcely seated in the coach, when she began to sing 
 some pretty song, and gradually led the conversation to some stories, 
 which she said might be successfully treated in the form of dramas. 
 By this cunning turn she very soon put her young friend into his 
 finest humor ; from the wealth of his living imaginative store he 
 forthwith constructed a complete play, with all its acts, scenes, 
 characters and plots. It was thought proper to insert a few catches 
 and songs ; they composed them ; and Philina, who entered into 
 every part of it, immediately fitted them with well-known tunes, and 
 sang them on the spot 
 
 It was one of her beautiful, most beautiful days ; she had skill to 
 enliven our friend with all manner of diverting wiles ; he felt in 
 spirits such as he had not for many a month enjoyed.
 
 96 M BISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 Since tliat shocking discovery had torn him from the side of 
 Mariana, he had continued true to his vow to be on his guard against 
 the encircling arms of women, to avoid tlie failliless sex, to lock up 
 his inclinations, his sweet wishes in his own bosom. The conscien- 
 tiousness with which he had observed this vow gave his whole nature 
 a secret nourishment ; and as his heart could not remain without 
 affection, some loving sympathy had now become a want with him. 
 He went along once more, as if environed by the first cloudy glories 
 of youth ; his eye fixed joyfully on every charming object, and never 
 had his judgment ,of a lovely form been more favorable. How 
 dangerous, in such a situation, this wild girl must have been to him, 
 is but too easy to conceive. 
 
 Arrived at home, they found Wilhelm's chamber all ready to receive 
 them ; the chairs set right for a public reading ; in the midst of them 
 the table, on which the punch-bowl was in due time to take its place. 
 
 The German chivalry plays were new at this period', and had just 
 excited the attention and the inclination of the public. Old Boister- 
 ous had brought one of this sort with him ; the reading of it had 
 already been determined on. They all sat down ; Wilhelm took 
 possession of the pamphlet, and began to read. 
 
 The harnessed knights, the ancient keeps, the true-heartedness, 
 honesty and downrightness, but especially the independence of the 
 acting characters, Avere received with the greatest approbation. The 
 reader did his utmost ; and the audience gradually mounted into 
 rapture. Between the third and fourth acts, the punch arrived in an 
 ample bowl ; and there being much fighting and drinking in the 
 piece itself, nothing was more natural than that, on every such oc- 
 currence, the company should transport themselves into the situation 
 of the heroes, should flourish and strike along with them, and drink 
 long life to their favorites among the dramatis persona;. 
 
 Each individual of the party was inflamed with the noblest fire of 
 .national spirit. How it gratified this German company to be poeti- 
 cally entertained, according to their own character, on stuff of their 
 ^own manufacture I In particular, the vaults and caverns, the ruined 
 castles, the moss and hollow trees, but above all the nocturnal gipsy- 
 scenes, and the secret tribunal, produced a quite incredible effect. 
 Every actor now figured to himself how, ere Jong, in helm and har- 
 ness ; every actress how, with a monstrous spreading ruff, she would 
 present her Germanship before the public. Each would aj)propriate 
 to himself without d(?]ay some name taken from the piece, or from 
 German history ; and Madam Melina declared, that the son or daughter 
 she was then expecting should not be christened otherwise than by 
 the name of Adelbert or of Mathilde. 
 
 Towards the fifth act the approbation became more impetuous and 
 louder ; and at last, when the hero actually trampled down his op- 
 pressor, and the tyrant met his doom, the ecstasy increased to such a 
 height, that all averred they had never passed such happy momenta.
 
 BOOK II. CHAPTER tl 97 
 
 Melina, whom tlie liquor had inspired, was the noisiest ; and when 
 the second bowl was empty, and midnight near, Laertes swore through 
 thick and thin, that no living mortal was worthy ever more to i)ut 
 these glasses to his lips ; and, so swearing, he pitched his own righti 
 over his head, through a window-pane, out into the street. The rest 
 followed his example ; and notwithstanding the protestations of the! 
 landlord, who came running in at the noise, the punch-bowl itself, 
 never after this festivity to be polluted by unholy drink, was dashed 
 into a thousand shreds. Philina, whose exhilaration was the least! 
 noticed, the other two girls by that time having laid themselves upon \ 
 the sofa in no very elegant positions, maliciously encouraged her com- 
 panions in their tumult. Madam Melina recited some spirit-stirring 
 poems ; and her husband, not too amiable in the uproar, began to , 
 cavil at the insufficient preparation of the punch, declaring that he i \ 
 could arrange an entertainment altogether in a different style ; and at V '; 
 last becoming sulkier and louder as Laertes commanded silence, till ^. \ 
 the latter, without much consideration, threw the fragments of the | \ 
 punch-bowl about his head, and thereby not a little deepened the . 
 confusion. '. 
 
 Meanwhile the town-guard had arrived, and were demanding admis- 
 sion to the house. Wilhelra, much heated by his reading, though he , 
 had drunk but little, had enough to do with the landlord's help to 
 content these people by money and good words ; and afterwards to 
 get the various members of his party sent home in that unseemly 
 case. On coming back, overpowered with sleep and full of chagrin, 
 he threw himself upon his bed without undressing; and nothing could 
 exceed his disgust, when, opening his eyes next morning, he looked 
 out with dull sight upon the devastations of the bygone day, and saw/ 
 the uncleanness, and the many bad effects, of* which that ingenious,' 
 lively and well-intended poetical performance had been the cause. 
 
 ■ 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 After a short consideration he called the landlord, and bade hini 
 mark to his account both the damage and the regular charge. At tlic 
 same time he learned, not without vexation, that his horse had been 
 so hard ridden by Laertes last night, that, in all probability, it was 
 foundered, as they term it, the farrier having little hope of its recov- 
 ering. 
 
 A salute from Philina, tvhich she threw him from her windo-\*^, 
 restored him in some degree to a more cheerful humor ; he went forth- 
 with into the nearest shop to buy her a little present, which, in return 
 for the powder-knife, he still owed her ; and it must be owned that, 
 in selecting his gift, he did not keep himself within the limits of 
 Meister — 4
 
 98 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 proportional value. He not only purchased lier a pair of ear-rings ; 
 but added likewise a hat and handkerchief, and some other little arti- 
 cles, which he had seen her lavishly throw from her on the first day 
 of their acquaintance. 
 
 Madam Melina happening to observe him as he was delivering his 
 presents, took an opportunity before breakfa.st to rate him very earn- 
 estly about his inclination for this girl ; at which he felt the more 
 astonished, the less he thought it merited. He swore solemnly, that 
 he had never once entertained tlie slightest notion of attaching him- 
 self to such a person, whose whole manner of proceeding was well 
 known to him • he excused himself as well as possible for his friendly 
 and polite conduct towards her ; yet did not by any means content 
 Madam Melina, whose spite grew even more determined, as she could 
 not but observe that the flatteries by which she had acquired for her- 
 self a sort of partial regard from our friend, were not sufficient to 
 defend this conquest from the attacks of a lively, younger and more 
 gifted rival. 
 
 As they sat down to table, her husband joined them, likewise in a 
 very fretful humor ; which he was beginning to display on many 
 little things, when the landlord entered to announce a player on the 
 harp. "You will certainly," he said, "find pleasure in the music 
 and the songs of this man ; no one Avho hears him can forbear to ad- 
 mire him, and bestow something on him." 
 
 " Let him go about his business," said Melina ; "I am anything but 
 in a trim for hearing fiddlers, and w'e have singers constantly among 
 ourselves disposed to gain a little by their talent." He accompanied 
 theso words with a sarcastic side-look at Philina : she understood his 
 meaning : and immediately prepared to punish him, by taking up the 
 cause of the harper. T.urning towards Wilhelm : " Shall we not hear 
 the man?" said she; "shall we do nothing to save ourselves from 
 this miserable cnnvi ? " 
 
 Melina was going to reply, and the strife would have grown keener, 
 had not the person it related to at that moment entered. Wilhelm 
 saluted him, and beckoned him to come near. 
 
 The figure of this singular guest set tae whole party in astonish- 
 ment ; he had found a chair before any one took heart to ask him a 
 question, or make any observation. His bald crown was encircled by 
 a few gray hairs ; and a pair of large blue eyes looked out softly from 
 beneath his long white eyelirows. To a nose of beautiful proportions 
 was subjoined a -flowing hoary beard, which did not hide the fine 
 shape and position of his lips ; and a long dark-brown garment 
 wrapped liis thin body from the neck to the feet. He began to pre- 
 lude on the harp, which he had placed before him. 
 
 The sweet tones which he drew from his instrument very soon in- 
 spirited the company. 
 
 " You can sing, too, my good old man," said Philina. 
 
 " Give us something that shall entertain the spirit and the heart as
 
 BOOK II. CHAPTER XI 99 
 
 well as the senses," said Wilhelm. " Tlie instrument should but 
 accompany the voice ; for tunes and melodies without words and mean- 
 ing seem to me like butterflies or finely-variegated birds, which hover 
 round us in the air, which we could wish to catch and make our own : 
 whereas song is like a blessed genius that exalts us towards heaven, 
 and allures the better self in us to attend him." 
 
 The old man looked at Wilhelm ; then aloft ; then gave some trills 
 upon his harp, and began his song. It contained a eulogy on min- 
 strelsy ; described the happiness of minstrels, and reminded men to 
 honor them. He produced his song with so much life and truth, that 
 it seemed as if he had composed it at the moment, for this special oc- 
 casion. Wilhelm could scarcely refrain from clasping him in his 
 arms ; but the fear of awakening a peal of laughter detained liiin in 
 his chair ; for the rest were already in half- whispers making sundry 
 very shallow observations, and debating if the harper was a Papist or 
 a Jew. 
 
 On asking about the author of the song, the man gave no distinct 
 reply ; declaring only that he was rich in songs, and anxious that they 
 should please. Most of the party were now merry and joyful ; even 
 Melina was grown frank in his way ; and whilst they talked and joked 
 together, the old man began to sing the praise of social life, in the 
 most sprightly style. He described the loveliness of unity and 
 courtesy, in soft, soothing tones. Suddenly his music became cold, 
 harsh and jarring, as he turned to deplore repulsive selfishness, short- 
 sighted enmity and baleful division ; and every heart willingly threw 
 off those galling fetters, while borne on the wings of a piercing melody, 
 he launched forth in praise of peace-makers, and sang the happiness of 
 souls that, having parted, meet again in love. 
 
 Scarcely had he ended when Wilhelm cried to him : ' ' Whoever 
 thou art, that as a helping spirit comest to us, with a voice which 
 blesses and revives, accept my reverence and my thanks ! Feel that 
 we all admire thee, and confide in us if thou wantest anything." 
 
 The old man spoke not ; he threw his fingers softly across the 
 strings : then struck more sharply, and sang : 
 
 "What notes are those without the wall, 
 
 Across the portal sounding ? 
 Let's have the music in our hall, 
 
 Back from its roof rebounding." 
 So spoke the kin", the henchman flies ; 
 His answer heard, the monarch cries : 
 
 " Bring in that ancient minstrel." 
 
 " Hail, gracious king, each noble knight ! 
 
 Each lovely dame, I greet you ! 
 What glittering stars salute my sight ! 
 
 What heart unmov'd may meet you I 
 Such lordly pomp is not for me. 
 Far other scenes my eyes must see : 
 
 Yet deign to list my harping."
 
 100 MEISTEB'S APPBENTICESHIP. 
 
 The singer turns him to his art, 
 
 A thrilling strain he raises ; 
 Each warrior hears with glowing heart, 
 
 And on his lov'd one gazes. 
 The king, who liked his playing well, 
 Commands, for such a kindly spell, 
 
 A golden chain be given him. 
 
 " The golden chain give not to me ; 
 
 'I'hy boldest knight may wear it. 
 Who cross'd the battle's purp)le sea 
 On lion-breast may bear it : 
 ' Or let it be thy chancellor's prize, 
 
 Amid his heaps to feast his eyes, 
 
 Its yellow glance will please him. 
 
 " I sing but as the linnet sings, 
 
 That on the green bough dwelleth ; 
 A rich reward the music brings, 
 
 As from his throat it swelleth : 
 Yet might I ask, I'd ask of thine 
 One sparkling draught of purest wine, 
 
 To drink it here before you." 
 
 He view'd the wine, he quafE'd it up . 
 
 " O draught of sweetest savor ! 
 O happy house, where such a cup 
 
 Is thought a little favor ! 
 If well you fare, remember me, 
 And thank kind Heaven, from envy free. 
 
 As now for this I thank you." 
 
 When the harper, on finishing his song, took up a glass of wine that 
 stood poured out for him, and, turning with a friendly mien to his 
 entertainers, drank it ofi, a buzz of joyful approbation rose from all 
 the party. They clapped hands, and wished him health from that 
 glass, and strength to his aged limbs. He sang a few other ballads, 
 exciting more and more hilarity among the company. 
 
 " Old man," said Philina, " dost thou know the tune, "The Shep- 
 lierd deck'd him for the Dance 't "* 
 
 ' ' O yes ! " said he ; " if you will sing the words, I shall not fail for 
 my part of it. ' 
 
 ' Philina then stood up, and held herself in readiness. The old man 
 commenced the tune ; and she sang a song, Avhich we cannot impart 
 to our readers, lest they might think it insipid, or perhaps undignified. 
 
 Meanwhile the comjjany were growing merrier and merrier ; they 
 luid' already emptied several flasks of wine, and were now beginning 
 to get very loud. But our friend, having fresh in his remembrance 
 the bad consequences of their late exhilaration, determined to break 
 up the sitting ; he slipped into the old man's hand a liberal remuner- 
 ation for his trouble, the rest did something likewise : they gave him 
 leave to go and take repose, promising themselves another entertain- 
 ment from his skill in the evening. 
 
 * " Per Schafer putzte sich zum Tanz ; " a song of Goethe's.— Ed.
 
 BOOK 11. CHAPTER XL lUi 
 
 VVheu lie had retired, our frieud said to Philiua : " In this favorite 
 song of yours I certainly find no merit, either moral or poetical ; yet, 
 if you were to bring forward any proper composition on the stage, 
 with the same arch simplicity, the same propriety and gracefulness, 
 I should engage that strong and universal approbation would be the 
 result." 
 
 "Yes," said Philina, "it would be a channing thing indeed to 
 warm one's self at ice." 
 
 "After all," said Wilhelm, "this old man might put many a 
 player to the blush. Did you notice how correctly the dramatic part 
 of his ballads was expressed? I maintain, there was more living true 
 representation in his singing, than in many of our starched characters 
 upon the stage. You would take the acting of many plays for a 
 narrative, and you might ascribe to these musical narratives a sen- 
 sible presence." 
 
 " You are hardly just ! " said Laertes. " I pretend to no great skill 
 either as a player or a singer ; yet I know well enough, that, when 
 music guides the movements of the body, at once affording to them 
 animation and a scale to measure it ; when declamation and expression 
 are furnished me by the composer, I feel quite a different man from 
 what I do when, in prose dramas, I have all this to create for myself ; 
 have both gesture and declamation to invent, and am perhaps dis- 
 turbed in it too by the awkwardness of some partner in the dialogue." 
 
 "Thus much I know," said Melina, " the man may certainly put 
 us to the blush iii one point, and that a main one. The strength of 
 his talent is shown by the profit he derives from it. Even, us, who 
 perhaps ere long shall be embarrassed where to get a meal, he per- 
 suades to share our pittance with him. lie has skill enough to wile 
 the money from our pockets with an old song ; the money that we 
 should have used to find ourselves employment. So pleasant an affair 
 is it to squander the means which might procure subsistence to one's 
 self and others." 
 
 This remark gave the conversation not the most delightful turn. 
 Wilhelm, for whom the reproach was peculiarly intended, replied with 
 some heat ; and Melina, at no time over studious of delicacy and p(t 
 liteness, explained his grievances at last in words more plain than 
 courteous. " It is now a fortnight," said he, "since we looked at the 
 theatrical machinery and wardrobe which is lying pawned here ; the 
 whole might be redeemed for a very tolerable sum. You then gave 
 me hopes that you would lend me so much ; and hitherto I do not see 
 that you have thought more of the matter, or come any nearer a 
 determination. Had you then consented, we should ere now have 
 been under way. Nor has your intention to leave the place been ex- 
 ecuted ; nor has your money in the meantime been spared : at least 
 there are peojjle who have always skill to create opportunities for 
 scattering it faster and faster away." 
 
 Such upbraidings, not altogether undeserved, touched Wilhelm to
 
 lOa MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 the quick. He replied with keenness, nay, with anger ; and, as the 
 company arose to part, he took hold of the door, and gave them not 
 obscurely to understand that he would no longer continue with such 
 unfriendly and ungrateful people. He hastened down, in no kindly 
 humor, and seated himself upon the stone bench without the door of 
 his inn ; not observing that, first out of mirth, then out of spleen, he 
 had drunk more wine than usual. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 After a short time, which he passed sitting looking out before him, 
 disquieted by many thoughts, Philina came singing and skipping 
 along through the front door. She sat down by him^ nay, we might 
 almost say, on him, so close did she press herself towards him ; she 
 leant herself upon his shoulders, began playing with his hail-, patted 
 him, and gave him the best words in the world. She begged of him 
 to stay with them, and not leave her alone in that company, or she 
 must die of tedium : she could not live any longer in the same house 
 with Melina, and had come over to lodge in the other inn for that very 
 reason. 
 
 He tried in vain to satisfy her with denials ; to make her understand 
 that he neither could nor would remain any longer. She did not cease 
 with her -entreaties ; nay, suddenly she threw her arm roitnd his neck 
 and kissed him with the liveliest expression of fondness. 
 
 " Are you mad, Philina?" cried Wilhelm, endeavoring to disengage 
 himself ; " to make the open street the scene of such caresses, which 
 I nowise merit ! Let me go ; I cannot and I will not stay." 
 
 "And I will hold thee fast," said she, " and kiss thee here on the 
 open street, and kiss thee till thoti promise what I want. I shall die 
 of laughing," she continued; "by this familiarity the good people 
 here must take me for thy wife of four weeks' standing ; and hus- 
 bands, who Avitness this touching scene, will commend me to their 
 wives as a pattern of childlike simple tenderness." 
 
 Some persons were just then going by ; she caressed him in the most 
 graceful way ; and he, to avoid giving scandal, was constrained to 
 play the part of the patient husband. Then she made faces at the 
 people, when their backs were turned ; and, in the wildest humor, 
 continued to commit all sorts of improprieties, till at last he was 
 obliged to promise that he would not go that day, or the morrow, or 
 the next day. 
 
 " You are a true clod ! " said she, quitting him ; " and I am but a 
 fool to spend so much kindness on you." She arose with some vexa- 
 tion, and walked a few steps, then turned round laughing, and cried : 
 "I believe it is just that, after all, that makes me so crazy about thee,
 
 BOOK n. CHAPTER XII. 103 
 
 I will but go and seek my knitting-needles and ni)- stocking, that I 
 may have something to do. Stay there, and let me find the stone man 
 still upon the stone bench when 1 come back." 
 
 She cast a sparkling glance on him, and went into the house. He 
 had no call to follow her ; on the contrary, her conduct had excited 
 fresh aversion in him ; yet he rose from the bench to go after her, not 
 well knowing why. 
 
 He was just entering the door, when Melina passed by, and spoke 
 to him in a respectful tone, asking his pardon for the somewhat too 
 harsh expressions he had used in their late discussion. " You will 
 not take it ill of me," continued he, " if I appear perhaps too fretful 
 in my present circumstances. The charge of providing for a wife, 
 perhaps soon for a child, forbids me from day to day to live at peace, 
 or spend my tiiue, as you may do, in the enjoyment of pleasant feel- 
 ings. Consider, I pray you ; and, if possible, do put me in possession 
 of that stage machinery that is lying here. I shall not be your debtor 
 long, and I shall be obliged to you while I live." 
 
 Our friend, unwilling to be kept upon the threshold, over which 
 an irresistible impulse was drawing him at that moment to Philina, 
 answered, with an absent mind, eager to be gone, and surprised into 
 a transient feeling of good- will : " If I can make you happy and con- 
 tented by doing this, I will hesitate no longer. Go you and put 
 everything to rights. I shall be prepared this evening, or to-morrow 
 morning to pay the money." He then gave his hand to Melina in 
 confirmation of his promise, and was- very glad to see him hastily 
 proceed along the street ; but, alas, his entrance, which he now 
 thought sure, was a second time prohibited, and more disagreeably 
 than at first. 
 
 A young man, with a bundle on his back, came walking fast along 
 the street, and advanced to Wilhelm, who at once recognized him for 
 Friedrich. " Here am 1 again ! " cried he, looking with his large blue 
 eyes joyfully up and down, over all the windows of the house. 
 " Where is Mamsell? Devil take me, if I can stroll about the world 
 any longer without seeing her.'' 
 
 The landlord, joining them at this instant, replied that she was 
 above ; Friedrich with a few bounds was upstairs, and Wilhelm con- 
 tinued standing as if rooted to the threshold. At the first instant he 
 was tempted to pluck the younker back, and drag him down by the 
 hair ; then all at once the spasm of a sharp jealousy stopped the cur- 
 rent of his spirits and ideas ; and, as he gradually recovered from 
 this stupefaction, there came over him a splenetic fit of restlessness, 
 a general discomfort, such as he had never felt in his life before. 
 
 He went up to his room, and found Mignon busy writing. For 
 some time, the creature had been laboring with great diligence in 
 writing everything she knew by heart, giving always to her master 
 and friend the papers to correct. She was indefatigable, and of good 
 comprehension ; but still her letters were irregular, and her lines
 
 104 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 crooked. Here too the body seemed to contradict the mind. In his 
 nsual moods, Wilhehn took no small pleasure in the child's attention ; 
 but at the present moment he regarded little what she showed him — 
 a piece of neglect which she felt the more acutely, as on this occasion 
 she conceived her work had been accomplished with peculiar success. 
 
 Wilhelm's unrest drove him up and down the passages of the house, 
 and finally again to the street door. A rider was just prancing to- 
 Avards it, a man of good appearance, of middle age, and a brisk con- 
 tented look. The landlord ran to meet him, holding out his hand as 
 to an old acquaintance. "Ay, Herr Stallmeister," cried he, "have 
 we the pleasure to see you again ? " 
 
 "I am just going to bait with you," replied the stranger, "and 
 then along to the estate, to get matters put in order as soon as possi- 
 ble. The count is coming over to-morrow with his lady ; they mean 
 
 to stay a while to entertain the Prince von in their best style : 
 
 he intends to fix his headquarters in this neighborhood for some 
 time." 
 
 " It is pity," said the landlord, " that you cannot stop with us : we 
 have good company in the house." The ostler came running out, 
 and took the horse from the stallmeister, who continued talking in 
 the door with the landlord, and now and then giving a look at Wil- 
 lielm. 
 
 Our friend, observing that he formed the topic of their conversa- 
 tion, went away, and walked up and down the streets. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 In the restless vexation of his present humor, it came into his head 
 to go and see the old harper, hoping by his music to scarce away the 
 evil spirits that tormented him. On askiug for the man, he was di- 
 rected to a mean public house in a remote corner of the litile town ; 
 and having mounted upstairs there to the very garret, his car caught 
 the fine twanging of the haip coming from a little room before him. 
 They were heart-moving, mournful tones, accompanied by a sad and 
 dreary singing. WillieJm glided to the door; and, as the good old 
 man was performing a sort of voluntary, the few stfyizas of which, 
 sometimes chanted, sometimes in recitative, were repeated more than 
 once, our friend succeeded, after listening for a while, in gathering 
 nearly this : 
 
 Who never ate his bread in sorrow. 
 
 Who never si)ent Ibe (lRrk>=onie liours 
 Weeping and watching for tlie morrow. 
 
 He kriowe ye not. ye gloomj' powers.
 
 BOOK I. CHAPTER XIII. 105 
 
 To earth, this wear}' earth, ye bring ns, 
 
 To guilt ye let us heedless go. 
 Then leave repentance fierce to wring us : 
 
 A moment's guilt, an age of woe ! 
 
 The heart-sick plaintive sound of the lament pierced deep into the 
 soul of the hearer. It seemed to him as if tl^e old man were often 
 stopped from proceeding by his tears ; his harp would alone be heard 
 for a time, till his voice again joined it in low broken tones. Wil- 
 helm stood by the door ; he was -aruch moved ; the mourning of the 
 stranger had again opened the avenues of his heart ; he could not 
 resist the claim of sympathy, or restrain the tears which this woe- 
 begone complaint at last called forth. All the pains that pressed 
 upon his soul seemed now at once to loosen from their hold ; he aban- 
 doned himself without reserve to the feelings of the moment. Push- 
 ing up the door, he stood before the harper. The old man was sitting 
 on a mean bed, the only seat, or article of furniture, which his miser- 
 able room afforded. 
 
 " What feelings hast thou not awakened in me, good old man ! " 
 exclaimed he. ' ' All that was lying frozen at my heart thou hast 
 melted, and put in motion. Let me not disturb thee ; but continue 
 in solacing thy own sorrow, to confer happiness upon a friend." The 
 harper was about to rise, and say something ; but Wilhelm hindered 
 him, for he had noticed in the morning that the old man did not like 
 to speak. He sat down by him on the straw bed. 
 
 The old man wiped his eyes, and asked, with a friendly smile, 
 " How came you hither ? I meant to wait upon you in the evening 
 again." 
 
 " We are more quiet here," said Wilhelm. *' Sing to me what thou 
 pleasest, what accords with thy own mood of mind, only proceed as 
 if I were'not by. It seems to me that to-day thou canst not fail to 
 suit me. I think thee very happy that, in solitude, thou canst employ 
 and entertain thyself so pleasantly ; that, being everywhere a stranger, 
 thou findest in thy own heart the most agreeable society." 
 
 The old man looked upon his strings, and, after touching them 
 softly by way of prelude, he commenced and sang : 
 
 Who longs in solitude to live, 
 
 Ah ! soon his wish will gain ; 
 Men hope and love, men get and give, 
 
 And leave him to his pain. 
 Yes, leave me to my moan \ 
 
 "When from my bed 
 
 You all are fled, 
 I still am not alone. 
 
 The lover glides with footstep light : 
 
 His love, is she not waiting there ? 
 So glides to meet me, da}' and night, 
 
 la solitude my care, 
 
 In solitude my woe ;
 
 106 MEISIER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 True solitude I then shall know 
 
 When lying in my grave, 
 
 When lying in my grave, 
 And grief has let me go. 
 
 We might describe with great prolixity, and yet fail to express the" 
 charms of the siugulsy conversation, which Wilhelm carried on with 
 this wayfaring stranger. To every observation which our friend 
 addressed to him, the old man, with the nicest accordance, answered 
 in some melody, which awakene* all the cognate emotions, and 
 opened a wide field to the imagination. 
 
 Whoever has happened to assist at a meeting of certain devout 
 people, who conceive that, in a state of separation from tlie Church, 
 they can edify each other in a purer, more affecting, and more spirit- 
 ual manner, may form to himself some conception of the present 
 scene. He will recollect how the leader of the meeting would append 
 to his words some verse of a song, that raised the soul till, as he 
 wished, she took wing ; how another of the flock would ere long sub- 
 join, in a different tune, some verse of a different song ; and to this 
 again a third would link some verse of a third song ; by which means 
 the kindred ideas of the songs to which the verses belonged were 
 indeed suggested, yet each passage by its new combination became 
 new and individualized, as if it had been first composed that moment ; 
 and thus, from a well-known circle of ideas, from well-known songs 
 and sayings, there was formed, for that particular society in that par 
 ticular time, an original whole, by means of which their minds were 
 animated, strengthened and refreshed. So likewise did the old man 
 edify his guest ; by known and unknown songs and passages, he 
 brought feelings near and distant, emotions sleeping and awake, pleas- 
 ant and painful, into a circulation, from which, in Wilhelm's actual 
 state, the best effects might be anticipated. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 AccOKDiNGLY, in walking back, he began to think with greater 
 earnestness than ever on his present situation ; he had reached home 
 with the firm purpose of altering it, when the landlord disclosed to 
 him, by way of secret, that Mademoiselle Philiua had made a conquest 
 of the count's stallmeister ; who, after executing his commission at 
 his master's estate, had returned in the greatest haste, and was even 
 now partaking of a good supper with her up in her chamber. 
 
 At this very moment Melina came in with a notary ; they went 
 into Wilhelm's chamber together, where the latter, though with some 
 hesitation, made his promise good ; gave a draft of three hundred 
 crowns to Melina, who, handing it to the lawyer, received in return
 
 BOOK I. CHAPTER XIV. 107 
 
 a note acknowledging the sale of the whole theatrical apparatus, and 
 engaging to deliver it next morning. 
 
 Scarcely had they parted, when Wilhelm heard a cry of horror ris- 
 ing from some quarter of the house. He caught the sound of a young 
 voice, uttering menacing and furious tones, which were ever and 
 anon choked by immoderate weeping and howling. He observed 
 this frantic noise move hastily from above ; go past liis door, and 
 down to the lower part of the house. 
 
 Curiosity enticing our friend to follow it, he found Friedrich in a 
 species of delirium. The boy was weeping, grinding his teeth, 
 stamping with his feet, threatening with clenched fists ; he appeared 
 beside himself from fury and vexation. Mignon was standing op- 
 posite him, looking on with astonishment. The landlord, in some 
 degree, explained this phenomenon. 
 
 The boy, he said, being well received at his return by Philina, 
 seemed quite merry and contented ; he had kept singing, and jump- 
 ing about, till the time when Philina grew acquainted with the 
 stallmeister. Then, however, this half-grown younker had begun to 
 show his indignation, to slam the doors, and run up and down in the 
 highest dudgeon. Philina had ordered him to wait at table that eve- 
 ning ; upon which he had grown still sulkier and more indignant ; 
 till at last, carrying up a plate with a ragout, instead of setting it 
 upon the table, he had thrown the whole between mademoiselle and 
 her guest, who were sitting moderately close together at the time ; 
 and the stallmeister, after two or three hearty cuSs, had then kicked 
 him out of the room. He, the landlord, had himself helped to clean 
 both of them, and certainly their clothes had suffered much. 
 
 On hearing of the good effect of his revenge, the boy began to laugh 
 aloud, whilst the tears were still running down his cheeks. He 
 heartily rejoiced for a time, till the disgrace which he had suffered 
 from the stronger party once more came into his head, and he began 
 afresh to howl and threaten. 
 
 Wilhelm stood meditating, and ashamed at this spectacle. It re- 
 flected back to him his own feelings, in coarser and exaggerated 
 features : he too was inflamed with a fierce jealousy ; and, had not 
 decency restrained him, he would willingly have satisfied his wild 
 humor ; witli malicious spleen, would have abused the object of his 
 passion, and called out his rival ; he could have crushed in pieces all 
 the people round him ; they seemed as if standing there but to vex 
 him. 
 
 Laertes also had come in, and heard the story ; he roguishly 
 spurred on the irritated boy, who was now asserting with oatlis that 
 he would make the stallmeister give him satisfaction ; that he had. 
 never yet let any injury al)ide with him ; that .should the man refuse, 
 there were other ways of taking vengeance. 
 
 This was the very business for Laertes. He went upstairs, with 
 a solemn countenance, to call out the stallmeister in the boy's name,
 
 108 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 " This is a pleasant thing," said the stallmeister : " such a joke as 
 this I had scarcely promised myself to-night." They went down, 
 and Philina followed them. " My son," said the stallmeister to 
 Friedrich, "thou art a brave lad, and I do not hesitate to fight thee. 
 Only as our years and strength are unequal, and the attempt a little 
 dangerous on that account, I propose a pair of foils in preference to 
 other weapons. We can rub the buttons of them with a piece of 
 chalk ; and whoever marks upon the other's coat the first or the most 
 thrusts, shall be held the victor, and be treated by the other with the 
 best wine that can be had in town." 
 
 Laertes decided that the proposition might be listened to ; Fried- 
 rich obeyed him as his tutor. The foils were produced ; Philina took 
 a seat, went on with her knitting, and looked at the contending 
 parties with the greatest peace of mind. 
 
 The stallmeister, who could fence very prettily, was complaisant 
 enough to spare his adversary, and to let a few chalk-scores be marked 
 upon his coat ; after which the two embraced, and wine was ordered. 
 The stallmeister took the liberty of asking Friedrich's parentage and 
 history ; and Friedrich told him a long story, which had often been 
 repeated already, and which, on some other opportunity, we purpose 
 communicating to our readers. 
 
 To Wilhelm, in the meantime, this contest completed the repre- 
 sentation of his own state of mind. He could not but perceive that 
 he would willingly have taken up a foil against the stallmeister ; a 
 sword still more willingly, though evidently much his inferior in the 
 science of defense. Yet he deigned not to cast one look on Philina ; 
 he was on his guard against any word or movement that could possi- 
 bly betray his feelings ; and after having once or twice done justice 
 to the health of the duelists, he hastened to his own room, where a 
 thousand painful thoughts came pressing round him. 
 
 He called to memory the time when his spirit, rich in hope, and 
 full of boundless aims, was raised aloft, and encircled with the live- 
 liest enjoyments of every kind as with its proper element. He now 
 clearly saw, that of late he had fallen into a broken wandering path, 
 where, if he tasted, it was but in drops what he once quaffed in un- 
 restricted measure. But he could not clearly see what insatiable want 
 it was that nature had made the law of his being ; and how this want 
 had been only set on edge, half satisfied, and misdirected by the cir- 
 cumstances of his life. 
 
 It will not surprise us, therefore, that, in considering his situation, 
 and laboring to extricate himself, he fell into the greatest perplexity. 
 It was not enough, that, by his f riend.ship for Laertes, his attp.climent 
 to Philina, his concern for Mignon, he had been detained longer than 
 was proper in a place and society where he could cherish his darling 
 inclination, content liis wishes as it were by stealth, and without pro- 
 posing any object, again pursue his early dreams. Thes(! ties he 
 believed himself possessed of force enough to break asunder ; had
 
 mOK It CMAPTEB XIV. 109 
 
 there been nothing more to hold him, he could have gone at once. 
 But, only a few moments ago, he had entered into money transactions 
 with Melina ; he had seen that mysterious old man, the engima of 
 whose history he longed with unspeakable desire to clear. Yet of 
 this too, after much balancing of reasons, he at length determined, or 
 thought he had determined, that it should not keep him back. "I 
 must go," he exclaimed; "1 will go." He threw himself into a 
 chair ; he felt greatly moved. Mignon came in, and asked, whether 
 she might help to undress him? Her manner was still and shy ; it 
 had grieved her to the quick to be so abruptly dismissed by him 
 before. 
 
 Nothing is more touching than the first disclosure of a love which 
 has been nursed in silence, of a faith grown strong in secret, and 
 which at last comes forth in the hour of need, and reveals itself to 
 him who formerly has reckoned it of small account. The bud, which 
 had been closed so long and firmly, was now r\\)e, to burst its swath- 
 ings, and Willielm's heart could never have been readier to welcome 
 the impressions of affection. 
 
 She stood before him, and noticed his disquietude. "Master!'* 
 she cried, "if thou art unhappy, what will become of Mignon?" 
 " Dear little creature," said he, taking her hands, " thou too art part 
 of my anxieties. 1 must go hence." She looked at his eyes, glisten- 
 ing with restrained tears ; and knelt down with vehemence before 
 him. He kept her hands ; she laid her head tipon his knees, and re- 
 mained quite still. He played with her hair, patted her, and spoke 
 kindly to her. She continued motionless for a considerable time. At 
 last he felt a sort of palpitating movement in her, which began very 
 softly, and then by degrees with increasing violence diffused itself 
 over all her frame. " What ails thee, Mignon?" cried he ; "what 
 ails thee?" She raised her little head, looked at him, and all at once 
 laid her hand upon her heart, with the countenance of one repressing 
 the utterance of pain. He raised her up, and she fell upon his breast ; 
 he pressed her towards him, and kissed her. She rejilied not by any 
 pressure of the hand, by any motion whatever. She held firmly 
 against her heart ; and all at once gave a cry, which was accompanied 
 by spasmodic movements of the body. She started itp, and immedi- 
 ately fell down before him, as if broken in every joint. It was an 
 excruciating moment ! "My child !" cried he, raising her up, and 
 clasping her fast; "my child, what ails thee?" The palpitations 
 continued, spreading from the heart over all the lax and powerless 
 limbs ; she was merely hanging in his arms. All at once she again 
 became quite stiff, like one enduring the sharpest corporeal agony ; 
 and soon with a new vehemence all her frame once more became 
 alive ; and she threw herself about his neck, like a bent spring clos- 
 ing ; while in her soul, as it were, a strong rent took place, and at the 
 same moment a stream of tears flowed from her shut eyes into his 
 hosom. He held her fast. She wept, and no tongue can express the
 
 1 ] MElSfER '8 A PPRENTlCESBlP. 
 
 force o£ these tears. Her long hair had loosened, and was hanging 
 down before her ; it seemed as if her whole being was melting inces- 
 santly into a brook of tears. Her rigid limbs were again become 
 relaxed ; her inmost soul was pouring itself forth ; in the wild con- 
 fusion of the moment, Wilhelm was afraid she would dissolve in his 
 arms, and leave nothing there for him to grasp. He held her faster 
 and faster. "My child!" cried he, "my child! Thou art indeed 
 mine, if that word can comfort thee. Thou art mine ! I will keep 
 thee, I will never forsake thee ! " Her tears continued flowing. At 
 last she raised herself ; a faint gladne.ss shone upon her face. " My 
 father ! " cried she, " thou wilt not forsake me ? Wilt be my father V 
 I am thy child ! " 
 
 Softly, at this moment, the harp began to sound before the door ; 
 the old man brought his most affecting songs as an evening offering 
 to our friend, who holding his child ever faster in his arms, enjoyed 
 the most pure and undescribable felicity.
 
 BOOK III. CHAPTER 1. Ill 
 
 BOOK III 
 
 CHAPTER I. f 
 
 Know'st thou the land where lemon-trees do bloom, i 
 
 And oranges like gold in leafy gloom ; 
 A gentle wind from deep blue heaven blows, 
 The myrtle thick, and high the laurel grows f 
 Know'st thou it, then ? 
 
 'Tis there ! 'tis there, 
 O my belov'd one, I with thee would go I 
 
 Know'st thou the house, its porch with pillars tall ? 
 The rooms do glitter, glitters bright the hall, 
 And marble t^tatucs stand, and look me on : 
 What's this, poor child, to thee they've done ? 
 Know'st thou it, then ? 
 
 'Tis there ! 'tis there, 
 O my protector, I with thee would go ! 
 
 Know'st thou the mountain, bridge that hangs on cloud ? 
 The mules in mist grope o'er the torrent loud, 
 In caves lie coil'd tne dragon's ancient brood, 
 The crag leaps down and over it the flood : 
 Know'st thou it, then ? 
 
 'Tis there ! 'tis there 
 Our way runs ; O my father, wilt thou go ? 
 
 Next morning, on looking for Mignon about the house, Wilhelm 
 did not find her ; but was informed that she had gone out early with 
 Melina, who had risen betimes to receive the wardrobe and other 
 apparatus of his theater. 
 
 After the space of some hours, Wilhelm heard the sound of music 
 before his door. At first he thouglit it was the harper come again to 
 visit him ; but he soon distinguished the tones of a cithern, and the 
 voice which began to sing was Mignon's. Wilhelm opened the door ; 
 the child came in, and sang him the song we have just given above. 
 
 The music and general expression of it pleased our friend extreme- 
 ly, though he could not understand all the words. He made her once 
 more repeat the stanzas, and explain them ; he wrote them down, and 
 translated them into his native language. But the originality of its 
 turns he could imitate only from afar ; its childlike innocence of ex- 
 pression vanished from it in the process of reducing its broken phrase- 
 ology to uniformity, and combining its disjointed parts. The chanii 
 of the tune, moreover, was entirely incomparable. 
 
 She began every verse in a stately and solemn manner, as if she
 
 112 MEI8TER' 8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 wished to draw attention towards something wonderful, as if she had 
 something weighty to communicate. In the third line, her tones be- 
 came deeper and gloomier ; the Knoio'st thou it, then ? was uttered 
 with a show of mystery and eager circumspectness ; in the 'Tis there ! 
 'tis there/ lay a boundless longing ; and her I with thee would go! she 
 modified at each repetition, so that now it appeared to entreat and Im- 
 plore, now to impel and persuade. 
 
 On finishing her song, for the second time, she stood silent for a mo- 
 ment, looked keenly at Wilhelm, and asked him, " Know'st thou the 
 land?" "It must mean Italy," said Wilhelm : " where didst thou 
 get the little song ''." " Italy ! " said Mignon with an earnest air : " if 
 thou go to Italy, take me along with thee ; for I am too coM here." 
 " Hast thou been there already, little dear?" said Wilhelm. But the 
 child was silent, and nothing more could be^ot out of her. 
 
 Melina entered now ; he looked at the cithern ; was glad that she 
 had rigged it up again so prettily. The instrument had been among 
 Melina's stage-gear ; Mignon had begged it of him in the morning : 
 and then gone to the old harper. On this occasion, she had shown a 
 talent she was not before suspected of possessing. 
 
 Melina had already got possession of his wardrobe, with all that 
 pertained to it ; some members of the town magistracy had promised 
 him permission to act, for a time, in the place. He was now return- 
 ing with a merry heart and a cheerful look. His nature seemed a] 
 together changed ; he was soft, courteous to every one, nay, fond of 
 obliging, and almost attractive. He was happy, he said, at now be- 
 ing able to afford employment to his friends, who had hitherto lain 
 idle and embarrassed ; sorry, however, that at first he could not have 
 it in his power to remunerate the excellent actors whom fortune had 
 offered him, in a style corresponding to their talents and capacities ; 
 being under the neces.sity, before all other things, of discharging his 
 debt to so generous a friend as Wilhelm had proved himself to be. 
 
 " I cannot describe," said he to Wilhelm, "the friendliness which 
 you have .shown, in helping me forward to the management of a 
 theater. When I found you here, I was in a very curious predica- 
 ment. You recollect how strongly I displayed to you, on our first ac- 
 quaintance, my aversion to the stage ; and yet, on being married, I 
 was forced to look about for a place in some theater, out of love to my 
 wife, who promised to herself much joy and great applause, if so en- 
 gaged. I could find none, at least no constant one ; but in return I 
 luckily fell in with some commercial men, who, in extraordinary cases, 
 were enabled to employ a person that could handle his pen, that un- 
 derstood French, and was not without a little skill in ciphering. I 
 managed pretty well in this way for a time ; I was tolerably paid ; 
 got about me many things which I had need of, and did not feel 
 ashamed of my work. But these commissions of my patrons came to 
 an end ; they could afford me no permanent establishment ; and ever 
 since, my wife has continued urging me still more to go upon the
 
 BOOK III. CHAPTER I. 113 
 
 / 
 stage again ; though, at present, alas, her own situation is none of 
 the favorablest for exhibiting herself, with honor, in the eyes of the 
 public. But now, I hope, the establishment, which by your kind 
 help I have the means of setting up, will prove a good beginning for 
 me and mine ; you 1 shall thank for all my future happiness, let mat- 
 ters turn out as tliey will." 
 
 Wilhelm listened to him with contentment : the whole fraternity 
 of players were likewise moderately satisfied with the declarations of 
 the new manager ; they secretly rejoiced that an offer of employment 
 had occurred so soon ; and were disposed to put up, at first, with a 
 smaller salary ; the rather, that most of them regarded the present 
 one, so unexpectedly placed within their reach, as a kind of supple- 
 ment, on which a short while ago they could not count. Melina made 
 haste to profit by this favorable temper ; he endeavored in a sly way 
 to get a little talk with each in private ; and ere long had, by various 
 methods, so cockered them all, that they did not hesitate to strike a 
 bargain with him, without loss of time ; scarcely thinking of this new 
 engagement, or reckoning themselves secure at worst of getting free 
 again after six weeks' warning. 
 
 The terms were now to be reduced to proper form, and Melina was 
 considering with what pieces he would first entice the public, when 
 a courier riding up informed the stallmeister, that his lord and lady 
 were at hand ; on which the latter ordered out his horses. 
 
 In a short time after this, the coach with its masses of luggage 
 rolled in ; two servants sprang down from the coach-box before the 
 inn ; and Philina, according to her custom, foremost in the way of 
 novelties, placed herself within the door. 
 
 " Who are you ? " said tli5 countess entering the house. 
 
 " An actress, at your excellency's service," was the answer ; while 
 the cheat, with a most innocent air, and looks of great humility, 
 courtesied, and kissed the lady's gown. 
 
 The count, on seeing some other persons standing round, who also 
 signified that they were players, inquired about the strength of their 
 company, their last place of residence, their manager. "Had they 
 but been Frenchmen," said he to his lady, " we might have treated 
 the prince with an unexpected enjoyment, and entertained him with 
 his favorite pastime at our house." 
 
 "And could we not," said the countess, "get these people, though 
 unluckily they are but Germans, to exhibit with us at the castle, 
 while the prince stays there ? Without doubt, they have some degree, 
 of skill. A large party can never be so well amused with anything/ 
 as with a theater ; besides, the baron would assist them." 
 
 So speaking they went upstairs : and Melina presented himself 
 above, as manager. " Call your folk together," said the count, " and 
 place them before me, that I may see what is in them. I must also 
 have the list of pieces you profess to act." 
 
 Melina, with a low bow, hastened from the room, and soon returned
 
 114 ME18TER'8 APPRENriCESHIP. 
 
 witli his actors. They advanced iu promiscuous succession ; some, 
 out of too great anxiety to please, introduced themselves in a rather 
 sorry style ; the others, not much better, by assuming an air of 
 unconcern. Philina showed the deepest reverence to the countess, 
 who behaved with extreme graciousness and condescension ; the 
 count, in the meantime, was mustering the rest. He questioned 
 each about his special province of acting ; and signified to Melina, 
 that he must rigorously keep them to their several provinces ; a pre- • 
 cept which the manager received with the greatest devotion. 
 
 The count then stated to each in particular what he ought espe- 
 cially to study, what about his figure or his postures ought to be 
 amended ; showed them luminously in what points the ^jermans 
 always fail ; and displayed such extraordinary knowledge, that all 
 stood in the deepest humility, scarcely daring to draw their breath, 
 before so enlightened a critic and so right honorable a patron. 
 
 " What fellow is that in the corner?" said the count, looking at a 
 subject, who had not yet been presented to him, and who now 
 approached ; a lean shambling figure, with a rusty coat patched at 
 the elbows, and a woeful periwig covering his submissive head. 
 
 This person, whom, from the last book, we know already as 
 Philina's darling, had been wont to enact pedants, tutors and poets ; 
 generally undertaking parts in which any cudgeling or ducking was 
 to be endured. He had trained himself to certain crouching, ludi- 
 crous, timid bow» ; and his faltering, stammering speech befitted the 
 characters he played, and created laughter iu the audience ; so that 
 he was always looked on as a useful member of the company, being 
 moreover very serviceable and obliging. He approached the count 
 in his own peculiar way ; bent himself before him, and answered 
 every question with the grimaces and gestures he was used to on the 
 stage. The count looked at him, for some time, with an air of 
 attentive satisfaction and studious observation ; then turning to the 
 countess, "Child," said he, "consider this man well : I will engage 
 for it, he is a great actor, or may become so." The creature here, in 
 the fullness of his heart, made an idiotic bow ; the count burst into 
 laughing, and exclaimed : "He does it excellently well ! I bet this 
 fellow can act anything he likes ; it is pity that he has not been 
 tJready used to something better." 
 
 So singular a i)repossession was extremely galling to the rest ; 
 Melina alone felt no vexation, but completely coincided with the 
 count, and answered with a prostrate look : ' ' Alas ! it is too true ; 
 both he and others of us have long stood in need of such encourage- 
 ment, and such a judge, as we now find in your excellency." 
 
 " Is this the whole company V" inquired the count. 
 
 "Some of them are absent," said the crafty Melina ; "and at any 
 rate, if we should meet with support, we could soon collect abundant 
 numbers from the neighborhood." 
 
 Philina in the mean while was saying to the countess : ' ' There is
 
 BOOK in. CHAPTER I. 115 
 
 a very pretty young man above, who without doubt would shortly 
 become a first-rate amateur. " 
 
 " Why does not he appear?" said the countess. 
 
 " I will bring him," crit'd Philina, hastening to the door. 
 
 She found our friend still occupied with Mignon ; she persuaded 
 him to come down. He followed her with some reluctance ; yet cu- 
 riosity impelled him : for hearing that the family were people of 
 rank, he longed much to know more of them. On entering the room 
 his eyes met those of the countess, which were directed towards him. 
 Philina led him to the lady, while the count was busied with the 
 rest. Wilhelm made his bow ; and replied to several questions from 
 the fair dame, not without confusion of mind. Her beauty and youth, 
 her graceful dignity and refined manner, made the most delightful 
 impression on him ; and the more so, as her words and looks were 
 accompanied with a certain baslif ulness, one might almost say em- 
 barrassment. He was likewise introduced to the count, who how- 
 ever, took no special notice of him ; but went to the window with 
 his lady, and seemed to ask her about something. It was easy to 
 observe that her opinion accorded strongly with his own ; that she 
 even tried to persuade him, and strengthen him in his intentions. 
 
 In a short while, he turned round to the company, and said : " I 
 must not stay at present, but I will send a friend to you ; and if you 
 make reasonable proposals, and will take very great pains, I am not 
 disinclined 'to let you play at the castle." 
 
 All testified their joy at this ; Philina in particular kissed the hands 
 of the countess with the greatest vivacity. 
 
 "Look you, little thing," said the lady, patting the cheeks of the 
 light-minded girl, "look you, child, you shall come to me again ; I 
 will keep my promise ; only you must dress better." Philina stated 
 in excuse that she had little to lay out upon her wardrobe ; and the 
 countess immediately ordered her waiting-maids to bring from the 
 carriage a silk neckerchief and an English hat, the articles easiest to 
 come at, and give them to her new favorite. The countess herself 
 then decked Philina, who continued very neatly to support, by her 
 looks and conduct, that saint-like, guiltless character she had assumed 
 at first. 
 
 The count took his lady's hand and led her down. She bowed to 
 the whole company with a friendly air, in passing by them ; she 
 turned round again towards Wilhelm, and said to him, with the most 
 gracious mien : "We shall soon meet again." 
 
 These happy prospects enlivened the whole party : every one of 
 them gave free course to his hopes, his wishes, his imaginations ; 
 spoke of the parts he would play, and the applause he would acquire. 
 Melina was considering how he might still, by a few speedy exhibi- 
 tions, gain a little money from the people of the town, before he left 
 it ; while others went into the kitchen, to order a better dinner than 
 of late they had been used to.
 
 U6 MEISTER'S APPBENTICESmP. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 After, a few days, the baron came ; and it Was not without fear 
 that Melina received him. The count had spoken of him as a critic ; 
 and it might be dreaded, he would speedily detect the weakness of 
 the little party, and see that it formed no efficient troup, there being 
 scarcely a play which they could act in a suitable manner. But the 
 manager, as well as all the members, were soon delivered from their 
 cares, on finding that the baron was a man who viewed the German 
 stage with a most patriotic enthusiasm, to whom every player, and 
 every comj^any of players, was welcome and agreeable. He saluted 
 them with great solemnity ; was happy to come upon a German the- 
 ater so unexpectedly, to get connected with it, and to introduce their 
 native mitses to the mansion of his relative. He then pulled out 
 from his pocket a bundle of stitched papers, in which Melina hoped 
 to find the terms of their contract specified ; but it proved something 
 very different. It was a drama, which the baron himself had com- 
 posed, and wished to have played by them : he requested their atten- 
 tion while he read it. Willingly they formed a circle round him ; 
 charmed at being able with so little trouble to secure the "favor of a 
 man so important ; though judging by the thickness of the manu- 
 script, it was clear that a very long rehearsal miglit be dreaded. 
 Their apprehensions were not groundless ; the piece was written in 
 five acts, and that sort of acts which never have an end. 
 
 The hero was an excellent, virtuous, magnanimous and at the same 
 time misunderstood and persecuted man ; this worthy person, after 
 many trials, gained the victory at last over all his enemies ; on whom, 
 in consequence, the most rigorous poetic justice would have been ex- 
 ercised, liad he not pardoned them on the spot. 
 
 While this piece Was rehearsing, each of the auditors had leisure 
 enough to think of himself, and to mount up quite softly from the 
 humble prostration of mind, to which, -a little while ago, he had felt 
 disposed, into a comfortable state of contentment with his own gifts 
 and advantages ; and from this elevation, to discover the most pleas- 
 ing prospects in the future. Such of them as found in the play no 
 parts adapted for their own acting, internally pronounced it bad, and 
 viewed the baron as a miserable author ; while the others, every 
 time they noticed any passage which they hoped might procure them 
 a little clapping of the hands, exalted it with the greatest praise, to 
 the immeasurable satisfaction of the author. 
 
 The commercial part of their affair was soon completed. Melina 
 made an advantageous bargain with the baron, and contrived to keep 
 it secret from the rest.
 
 BOOK III. CHAPTER II. 117 
 
 Of our friend, Melina took occasion to declare in passing, that he 
 seemed to be successfully qualifying himself for becoming a dramatic 
 poet, and even to have some capacities for being an actor. The baron 
 introduced liimself to Wilhelm as a colleague ; and the latter by and 
 by produced some little pieces, which, with a few other relics, had 
 escaped by chance, on the day when he threw the greater part of his 
 works into the flames. The baron lauded both his pieces and 
 delivery ; he spoke of it as a, settled thing, that Wilhelm should come 
 over to the castle with the rest. For all, at his departure, he en- 
 gaged to find the best reception, comfortable quarters, a good table, 
 applauses and presents ; and Melina farther gave the promise of a 
 certain modicum of pocket money to each. 
 
 It is easy to conceive how this visit raised the spirits of the party ; 
 instead of a low and harassing situation, they now at once saw hon- 
 ors and enjoyment before them. On the score of these great hopes 
 they already made merry ; and each thought it needless and stingy 
 to retain a single groscheu of money in his purse. 
 
 Meanwhile our friend was taking counsel with himself, about ac- 
 companying the troup to the castle ; and he found it, in more than 
 one sense, advisable to do so. Melina was in hopes of paying off 
 his debt, at least in part, by this engagement ; and Wilhelm, who 
 had come from home to study men, was unwilling to let slip this op- 
 portunity of examining the great world, where he expected to obtain 
 much insight into life, into himself and the dramatic art. With all 
 this, he durst not confess how greatly he wished again to be near the 
 beautiful countess. He rather sought to persuade himself in general 
 of the mighty advantages, which a more intimate acquaintance with 
 the world of rank and wealth would procure for him. He pursued 
 his reflections on the count, the countess, the baron ; on the security, 
 the grace and propriety of their demeanor ; he exclaimed with rapture 
 when alone : 
 
 " Thrice happy are they to be esteemed, whom their birth of itself 
 exalts above the lower stages of mankind ; who do not need to traverse 
 those perplexities, not even to skirt them, in which many worthy men 
 .so painfully consume the whole period of life. Far-extending and 
 -^unerring must their vision be, on that higher station ; easy each step \ 
 I of their progress in the world 1 From their very birth, they are ' 
 ■' placed as it were in a ship, which, in this voyage we have all to 
 make, enables them to profit by the favorable winds, and to ride out 
 the cross ones ; while others, bare of help, must wear their strength 
 away in swimming, .cau derive little profit from the favorable breeze, 
 and in the storm must soon become exhausted and sink to the bottom. 
 What convenience, what ease of movement does a fortune we are 
 born to, confer upon us ! How securely does a traffic flourish, which 
 is founded on a solid capital, where the failure of one or of many en- 
 terprises does not of necessity reduce us to inaction I Who can better 
 know the worth and worthlessness of earthly things, than he that
 
 118 MEISTER '8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 lias had within his choice the enjoyment of them from youth up- 
 wards ; and who can earlier guide his mind to the useful, the neces- 
 sary, the true, than he that may convice himself of so many errors in 
 an age when his strength is yet fresh to begin a new career ! " 
 
 Thus did ou friend cry joy to all inhabitants of the upper regions ; 
 and not to them only, but to all that were permitted to approach their 
 circle, and draw water from their wells. So he thanked his own 
 happy stars, that seemed preparing to grant this mighty blessing to 
 liimself. 
 
 Melina, in the meantime, was torturing his brains to get the com- 
 pany arranged according to their several provinces, and each of them 
 appointed to produce his own peculiar effect. In compliance with the 
 count's inj unctions and his own persuasions, he made many efforts ; but 
 at last,- when it came to the point of execution, he was forced to be con- 
 tent, if, in so small a troup, he found his people willing to adjust them- , 
 selves to this or that part, as they best were able. \^lien matters would 
 admit of it, Laertes played the lover; Philina the lady's maid; the two 
 young girls took iip between them the characters of the artless and 
 tender loved ones ; the boisterous old gentleman of the piece was sure 
 to be the best acted. IMelina himself thought he might come forth 
 as chevalier ; Madam Melina, to her no small sorrow, was obliged 
 to satisfy herself with personating young wives, or even affectionate 
 mothers ; and as in the newer plays a poet or pedant is rarely in- 
 troduced, and still more rarely for the purpose of being laughed at, 
 the well-known favorite of the count was now usually transformed 
 into president or minister ; these being commonly set forth as knaves, 
 and severely handled in the fifth act. Melina, too, in the part of 
 chamberlain or the like, introduced, with great satisfaction, the inep- 
 titudes put into his hands hj various honest Germans, according to 
 use and wont, in many well-accepted plays : lie delighted in these 
 characters, because he had an opportunity of decking himself out in 
 a fashionable style, and was called upon to assume the airs of a court- 
 ier, which he conceived himself to possess in great perfection. 
 
 It was not long till they were joined by several actors from different 
 quarters ; who being received without very strict examination, were 
 also retained without very burdensome conditions. 
 
 Wilhelm had been more than once assailed witli persuasions from 
 Melina to undertake an amateur part. This he declined ; yet he inter- 
 ested and occupied himself about the general cause with great alacrity, 
 without our new manager acknowledging his labors in the smallest. 
 On the contrary, it seemed to be Melina's opinion, that with his office 
 he had at the same time picked up all the necessary skill for carrying 
 it on. In particular, the task of curtailment formed one of his most 
 pleasing occupations ; he would succeed in reducing any given piece 
 down to the regular measure of time, without the slightest respect to, 
 proprieties or proportions, or anything whatever but his watch. He 
 met with great encouragement ; the public was very much delighted ;
 
 BOOK III. CHAPTEli in. . 119 
 
 the most kuowing iuliabitants of the burgh maintained that the 
 Prince's theater itself was not so well conducted as theirs. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 At last the time arrived when the company had to prejiare them- 
 selves for traveling, and to expect the coaches and other vehicles that 
 were to carry them to the count's mansion. Much altercation now 
 took place about the mode of traveling, and who should sit with 
 Avhom. The ordering and distribution of the whole was at length set- 
 tled and concluded, with great labor, and, alas, withoiit effect. At the 
 appointed hour, fewer coaches came than were expected ; they had to 
 accommodate themselves as the case would admit. The baron, who 
 followed shortly afterwards on horseback, assigned as the reason, that 
 all was in motion at the castle, not only because the prince Avas to ar- 
 rive a few days earlier than had been looked for, but also because an 
 unexpected party of visitors were already come ; the place he said, Avas 
 in great confusion ; on this account, porliaps they would not lodge so 
 comfortably as had been intended ; a change which grieved him very 
 much. 
 
 Our travelers packed themselves into the carriages the best way 
 they could ; and the weather being tolerable, and the castle but a few 
 leagues distant, the heartiest of the troup preferred setting out on foot 
 to waiting the return of tlie coaches. The caravan got under way with 
 great jubilee ; for the first time, without caring how the landlord's 
 bill was to be paid. The count's mansion rose like a i)alace of the 
 fairies on their souls ; they were the happiest and merriest mortals in 
 the world. Each throughout the journey, in his own peculiar mode, 
 kept fastening a continued chain of fortune, honor and prosperity to 
 that auspicious day. 
 
 A heavy rain, which fell unexpectedly, did not banish these delight- 
 ful contemplations; though, as it incessantly " continued with more 
 and more violence, many of the party began to show traces of uneasi- 
 ness. The night came on ; and no sight could be more Avelcome than 
 the palace of the count, which shone upon them from a hill at some 
 distance, glancing with light in all its stories, so that they could 
 reckon every window. 
 
 On approaching nearer, they found all the AA-indows in the Avings 
 illuminated also. Each of the party thought AA'ithin himself AA'hat 
 chamber Avould be his ; and most of them prudently determined to be 
 satisfied with a room in the attic story, or some of the side buildings. 
 
 They were noAV proceeding through the A'illage, past the inn. Wil- 
 helm stopped the coach, in the mind to alight there ; but the land- 
 lord protested that it was not in his power to afford the least accom-
 
 120 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 modation : his lordship, the count, he said, being visited by some 
 unexpected guests, had immediately engaged the whole inn ; every 
 chamber in the house had been marked with chalk last night, speci- 
 fying who was to lodge there. Our friend was accordingly obliged, 
 against his will, to travel forward to the castle, with the rest of the 
 company. 
 
 In one of the side buildings, round the kitchen fire, they noticed 
 several cooks running busily about ; a sight which refreshed them 
 not a little. Servants came jumping hastily with lights to the stair- 
 case of the main door ; and the hearts of the worthy pilgrims over- 
 flowed at the aspect of such honors. But how great was their 
 surprise, when this cordial reception changed into a storm of curses. 
 The servants scouted the coachmen for driving in hither ; they must 
 wheel out again, it was bawled, and take their loading round to the 
 old castle ; there was no room here for such guests ! To this up- 
 friendly and unexpected dismissal, they joined all manner of jeering, 
 and laughed aloud at each other for leaping out in the rain on so false 
 an errand. It was still pouring ; no star was visible in the sky ; 
 while our company were dragged along a rough jolting road, between 
 two walls, into the old mansion, which stood behind, inhabited by 
 none since the present count's father had built the new residence in 
 front of it. The carriages drew up, partly in the court-yard, partly 
 in a long arched gateway ; and the postilions, people hired from the 
 village, unyoked their horses and rode off. 
 
 x\s nobody came forward to receive the travelers, they alighted 
 from their places, they shouted, and searched. In vain ! All con- 
 tinued dark and still. The wind swept through the loft}- gate ; the 
 court and the old towers were lying gray and dreary, and so dim that 
 their forms could scarcely be distinguished in the gloom. The peo- 
 ple were all shuddering and freezing ; the women were becoming 
 frightened ; the children began to cry ; the general impatience was 
 increasing every minute ; so quick a revolution of fortune, for which 
 no one of them had been at all prepared, entirely destroyed their 
 equanimity. 
 
 Expecting every minute that some person would appear and unbolt 
 the doors ; mistaking at one time the pattering of the rain, at another 
 the rocking of the wind, for the much-desired footste2)s of the castle 
 bailiff, they continued downcast and inactive ; it occurred to none of 
 them to go into the new mansion, and there solicit help from charita- 
 ble souls. They could not understand where their friend the baron 
 was lingering ; they were in the most disconsolate condition. 
 
 At last some people actually arrived : by their voices they were 
 recognized as the pedestrians ^vho had fallen behind the others on the 
 journey. They intimated that the baron had tumbled with his horse, 
 and hurt his leg severely ; and that on calling at the castle, they too 
 had been roughly directed hither. 
 
 The whole company were in extreme perplexity ; they guessed and
 
 BOOK til. GSAPTER 111. ^ 121 
 
 speculated as to what sliould now be done ; but they could fix on 
 nothing. At length they noticed from afar a lantern advancing, and 
 look fresh breath at sight of it ; but their hopes of quick deliverance 
 again evaporated when the object approached, and came to be dis- 
 tinctly seen. A groom was lighting the well-known stallmeister of 
 the castle towards them ; this gentleman, on coming nearer, very 
 anxiou.sly inquired for Mademoiselle Philina. No sooner had she 
 stepped forth from the crowd, than he very pressingh' offered to con- 
 duct her to the new mansion, where a little place had been provided 
 for her with the countess's maids. She did not hesitate long about 
 accepting his proposal : she caught his arm, and recommending her 
 trunk to the care of the rest, was going to hasten off with him 
 diiettly : but the others intercepted them, asking, entreating, con- 
 juring the stallmeister ; till at last, to get away with his fair one, he 
 promised everything, assuring them that in a little while the castle 
 should be opened, and they lodged in the most comfortable manner. 
 In a few moments, they saw the glimmer of his lantern vanish ; they 
 long looked in vain for another gleam of light. At last, after much 
 watching, scolding and reviling, it actually appeared, and revived 
 them with a toucli of hope and consolation. 
 
 An ancient footman oi)ened the door of the old edifice, into which 
 they rushed with violence. Each of them now strove to have liis 
 trunk unfastened, and brought in beside him. Most of this luggage, 
 like the persons of its owners, was thoroughly wetted. Having but 
 a single light, the process of unpacking went on very slowly. In 
 the dark passages they pushed again.st each other, they stumbled, 
 they fell. They begged to have more lights, they begged to have 
 some fuel. The monosyllabic footman, with much ado, consented to 
 put down his own lantern ; then went his way, and came not again. 
 
 They now began to investigate the edifice. The doors of all the 
 rooms were opened ; large stoves, tapestry hangings, inlaid floors, 
 yet bore witness to its former pomp ; but of other house-gear there 
 was none to be seen ; no table, chair, or mirror ; nothing but a few 
 monstrous empty bedsteads, stript of every ornament and every neces- 
 sary The wet trunks and knapsacks were adopted as seats ; a part 
 of the tired wanderers placed themselves upon the floor. Wilhelm 
 had sal. down upon some steps ; Mignon lay upon his knees. The 
 child was restless ; and, when he asked what ailed her, she answered : 
 " I am hungry." He himself had nothing that could still the craving 
 of tiiie child ; the rest of the party had consumed their whole provis- 
 ion ; so he was obliged to leave the little traveler without refresh- 
 ment. Through the whole adventure he had been inactive, silently 
 immersed in thought. He was very sullen, and full of indignant 
 regret that he had not kept by his first determination, and remained 
 at the inn, though he shoiihl have slept in the garret. 
 
 The rest demeaned themselves in various ways. Some of them had 
 got a heap of old wood collected v/ithin a vast gaping chimney in the
 
 1 22 MEISTER '8 A PPRENTIGESHIP. 
 
 hall ; they set fire to the pile with great huzzahing. Unhappily, how- 
 ever, their hopes of warming and drying themselves by means of it, 
 were mocked in the most frightful manner. The chimne}', it ap- 
 peared, was there for ornament alone, and was walled- up above ; so 
 the smoke rushed quickly back, and at once filled the whole chamber. 
 The dry wood rose crackling into flames ; the flame was also driven 
 back ; the draught sweeping through the broken windows gave it a 
 wavering direction. Terrified lest tlie castle should catch fire, the 
 unhappy guests had to tear the burning sticks asunder, to smother 
 and trample them under their feet ; the smoke increased ; their case 
 was rendered more intolerable than before ; they were driven to the 
 brink of desperation. 
 
 Wilhelm had retreated from the smoke into a distant chamber ; to 
 which Mignou soon followed him, leading in a well-dressed servant, 
 with a high clear double-lighted lantern in his hand. He turned to 
 Wilhelm, and holding out to him some fruits and confectionery on a 
 beautiful porcelain plate : " The young lady upstairs," said he, 
 " sends you this, with the request that you would join her party ; she 
 bids me tell you," added the lacquey, with a sort of grin, "that she 
 is very well off yonder, and wishes to divide her enjoyments with 
 her friends." 
 
 Wilhelm had not at all expected such a message ; for, ever since 
 the adventure on the stone bench, he had treated Pliilina with the 
 most decided contempt ; he was still so resolute to have no more 
 concern with her, that he thought of sending back her dainty gifts 
 untasted, when a supplicating look of Mignon's induced him to accept 
 them. He returned his thanks in the name of the child. The invi- 
 tation he entirely rejected. He desired the servant to exert himself 
 a little for the stranger company, and made inquiry- for the baroa. 
 The latter, he was told, had gone to bed ; but had already, as the 
 lacquey understood, given orders to some other person to take charge 
 of these unfortunate and ill-lodged gentlemen. 
 
 The servant went away, leaving one of his lights, which Wilhelm, 
 in the absence of a candlestick, contrived to fix upon the window 
 casement ; and now at least, in his meditations, he could see the four 
 walls of his chamber. Nor was it long till preparations were com- 
 menced for conducting our travelers to rest. Candles arrived by 
 degrees, though without snuffers ; then a few chairs ; an hour after- 
 wards came bed-clothes ; then pillows, all well steeped in rain. It 
 was far past midnight when straw-beds and mattresses were produced, 
 which, if sent at first, would have been extremely welcome. 
 
 In. the interim also, somewhat to eat and drink had been brought 
 in : it was enjoyed without much criticism, though it looked like a 
 most disorderly collection of remains, and offered no very singular 
 proof of the e.steem in which our guests were held.
 
 BOOK ILL CHAPTER LV. 123 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The disorders and mischievous tricks of some frolicksome com- 
 panions still farther augmented the disquietudes and disti-esses of the 
 night. ; these gay people woke each other, each played a thousand 
 giddy pranks to plague his fellow. The next morning dawned amid 
 loud complaints against their friend the baron, for having so deceived 
 them, for having given so very false a notion of the order and comfort 
 that awaited their arrival. However, to their great surprise and con- 
 solation, at an early hour, the count himself, attended by a few ser- 
 vants, made his entrance, and inquired about their circumstances. 
 He appeared much vexed on discovering how badly they had fared • 
 and the baron, who came limping along, supported on the arm of a 
 servant bitterly accused the steward for neglecting his commands on 
 this occasion : showing great anxiety to have that person punished 
 for his disobedience. 
 
 The count gave immediate orders that everything should be 
 arranged, in his presence, to the utmost possible convenience of the 
 guests. While this was going on, some otficers arrived, Avho forth- 
 with scraped acquaintance with the actresses. The count assembled 
 all the company before him, spoke to each by name, introduced a few 
 jokes among his observations ; so that every one was charmed at the 
 gracious condescension of his lordship. At last it came to Wilhelm's 
 turn ; he appeared with Mignon holding by his hand. Our friend 
 excused himself, in the best terms he could, for the freedom he had 
 taken ; the count, on the other hand, spoke as if the visit had been 
 looked for. 
 
 A gentleman, who stood beside the count, and who, although he 
 wore no uniform, appeared to be an officer, conversed with Wilhelm ; 
 he was evidently not a common man. His large keen blue eyes, 
 looking out from beneath a high brow ; his light-colored hair, thrown 
 carelessly back ; his middle stature ; everything about him showed 
 an active, firm and decisive mode of being. His questions were 
 lively ; he seemed to be at home in all that he inquired about. 
 
 Wilhelm a.sked the baron Avhat this person was ; but found that he 
 had little to say of him. " He held the rank of major, was the spe- 
 cial favorite of the prince, managed his most secret affairs, was, in 
 short, regarded as his right arm. Nay, there was reason to believe 
 him the prince's natural son. He had been on embassies in France, 
 England, Italy ; in all those places he had greatly distinguished him- 
 self ; by which means he was grown conceited, imagining, among 
 other pretensions, that he thoroughly understood the literature of 
 Germany, and allowing himself to vent all kinds of .sorry jests upon 
 it. He, the baron, was in the habit of avoiding all intercourse -svith
 
 134 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 Mm ; and Willielm would do well to imitate tliat conduct, for it some- 
 how happened that no one could be near him without being punished 
 for it . He wa,s called Jarno ; though nobody knew rightly what to 
 make of such a name." 
 
 Wilhelm had nothing to urge against all this : he had felt a sort of 
 inclination for the stranger, though he noticed in him something cold 
 and repulsive. 
 
 The company being arranged and distributed throughout the castle, 
 Melina issued the strictest orders, that they should behave themselves 
 with decency ; the women live in a separate quarter ; and each direct 
 his whole attention to the study of dramatic art, and of the characters 
 he had to play. He posted up written ordinances, consisting of many 
 articles, upon all the doors. He settled the amcfui\t of fine, which 
 should be levied upon each transgressor, and put into a common bos. 
 
 This edict was but little heeded. Young officers went out and in ; 
 they jested not in the most modest fashion with the actresses ; made 
 game of the actors; and annihilated the whole system of police, before 
 it had the smallest time to take root in the community. The people 
 ran chasing one another through the rooms, they changed clothes, 
 they disguised themselves. Melina, attempting to be rigorous with 
 a few at first, was exasperated by every sort of insolence ; and Avhen 
 the count soon after sent for him to come to view the place where 
 his theater was to be erected, matters grew worse and worse. The 
 young gentry devised a thousand broad jokes ; by the help of some 
 actors, they became yet coarser ; it seemed as if the old castle had 
 been altogether given up to an infuriate host ; and the racket did not 
 end till dinner. 
 
 Meanwhile the count had led Melina over to a large hall, which, 
 though belonging to the old castle, communicated by a gallery with 
 the new one : it seemed very well adapted for being changed into a 
 little theater. Here the sagacious lord of the mansion pointed out in 
 person how he wanted everything to be. 
 
 The labor now commenced in the greatest haste ; the stage appara- 
 tus was erected and furbished up ; what decorations they had brought 
 along with them and could employ, were set in order ; and what was 
 wanting, was prepared by some skillful workmen of the count's. 
 Wilhelm likewise put his hand to the business ; he assisted in settling 
 the perspective, in laying off the outlines of the scenery ; he was very 
 anxious that nothing should be executed clumsily. The count, who 
 frequently came in to inspect their progress, was highly satisfied ; he 
 showed particularly how they should proceed in every case, display- 
 ing an uncommon knowledge of all the arts they were concerned with. 
 
 Next began the business of rehearsing, in good earnest ; and there 
 would have been enough of space and leisure for this undertaking, 
 had the actors not continually been interrupted by the presence of 
 visitors. Some new guests v^^ere daily arriving, and each insisted on 
 viewing the operations of the company.
 
 BOOK III CHAPTER V. 125 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The baron had, lor several days, been cheering Wilhelm with the 
 hope of being formally presented to the countess. " I have told this 
 excellent lady," said he, " so mucli about the talent and fine sentiment 
 displayed in your compositions, that she feels quite impatient to see 
 you, and hear one or two of theiu read. Be prepared, therefoi'e, to 
 come over at a moment's notice, for the first morning she is at leisure 
 you will certainly be called on." He then pointed out to him the 
 after-piece it would be proj^er to produce on that occasion ; adding, 
 that doubtless it would recommend him to no usual degree of favor. 
 The lady, he declared, was extremely sorry that a guest like him had 
 happened to arrive at a time of such confusion, when they could not 
 entertain him in a style more suitable to his merits and their own 
 wishes. 
 
 In consequence of this information, Wilhelm, with the most sedu- 
 lous attention, set about preparing the piece which was to usher him 
 into the great world. " Hitherto," said he, "thou hast labored in 
 silence for thyself ; applauded only by a small circle of friends. 
 Thou hast for a time despaired of thy abilities, and art yet full of 
 anxious doubts whether even thy present path is the right one, and 
 whether thy talent for the stage at all corresponds with thy inclina- 
 tion for it. In the hearing of such practiced judges, in the closet 
 where no illusion can take place, the attempt is far more hazardous 
 than elsewhere ; and yet I would not willingly recoil from the experi- 
 ment ; I could wish to add this pleasure to my fonner enjoyments, and 
 if it might be, to givB extension and stability to my hopes from the 
 future." 
 
 He accordingly went through some pieces ; read them with the 
 keenest critical eye ; made corrections here and there ; recited them 
 aloud, that he might be perfect in his tones and expression ; and 
 finally selected the work which he was best acquainted with, and 
 hoped to gain most honor hy. He put it in his pocket, one morning, 
 on being summoned to attend the countess. 
 
 The baron had assured him that there would be no one present, but 
 the lady herself and a worthy female friend of hers. On entering the 
 
 chamber, the Baroness von C advanced with great friendliness to 
 
 meet him ; expressed her happiness at making his acquaintance, and 
 introduced him to the countess, who was then under the hands of her 
 hairdresser. The countess received him with kind words and looks, 
 l)ut it vexed him to see Philina kneeling at her chair and playing a 
 thousand fooleries. "The poor child," said the baroness, " has just 
 been singing to us. Finish the song you were in the midst of ; we 
 should not like to lose it."
 
 126 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 Wilhelm listeued to her quavering with great patience, being anx- 
 ious for the friseur's departure before he should begin to read. They 
 offered him a cup of chocolate, the baroness herself handing him the 
 biscuit. Yet, in spite of these civilities, he relished not his break- 
 fast ; he was longing too eagerly to lay before the lovely countess 
 some perfonnance that might interest and gratify her. Philina, too, 
 stood somewhat in his way ; on former occasions, while listening to 
 him, she had more than once been troublesome. He looked at the 
 f riseur with a painful feeling, hoping every moment that the tower of 
 curls would be complete. 
 
 Meanwhile the count came in, and began to talk of the fresh visit- 
 ors he was expecting, of the day's occupations or amusements, and of 
 various domestic matters that were started. On his retiring, some 
 officers sent to ask permission of the countess to pay their respects to 
 her, as they had to leave the castle before dinner. The footman hav- 
 ing come to his post at the door, she permitted him to usher in the 
 gentlemen. 
 
 The baroness amid these interruptions gave herself some pains to 
 entertain our friend, and showed him much consideration : all which 
 he accepted with becoming reverence, though not without a little ab- 
 sence of mind. He often felt for the manuscript in his pocket ; and 
 hoped for his deliverance every instant. He was almost losing pa- 
 tience, when a man-milliner was introduced, and immediately began 
 without mercy to open his papers, bags and bandboxes ; pressing all 
 his various wares upon the ladies, with an importunity peculiar to 
 that species of creature. 
 
 The company increased. The baroness cast a look at Wilhelm, and 
 then whispered with the countess ; he noticed this, but did not un- 
 derstand the purpose of it. The wholej hovi'ever, became clear 
 enough, when, after an hour of painful and fruitless endurance he 
 went away. He then found a beautiful jfocket-book, of English man- 
 ufacture in his pocket. The l)aroness had dexterously put it there 
 without his notice ; and soon afterwards the countess's little black came 
 out, and handed him an elegantly flowered waistcoat, withoujt A'ery 
 clearly saying whence it came. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 This mingled feeling of vexation and gratitude spoiled the remain- 
 der of his day ; till towards evening, he once more found employment. 
 Melina informed him that the count had been speaking of a little pre- 
 lude, which he wished to have produced, in honor of the prince, on 
 the day of his highness's arrival. He meant to have the great qual- 
 ities of this noble hero and philanthropist personified in the piece.
 
 BOOK III. CHAPTER VL 127 
 
 These virtues were to advance together, to recite his praises, and 
 finally to encircle his bust with garlands of flowers and laurels ; be- 
 hind which a transparency might 1)0 inserted, representing the princely 
 hat, and his name illuminated on it. The count, Melina said, had 
 ordered him to take charge of getting ready the verses and other 
 arrangements ; and Wilhelui, he hoped, to whom it must be an easy 
 matter, would stand by him on this occasion. 
 
 "How!" exclaimed our friend in a splenetic tone, "have we 
 nothing but portraits, illuminated names and allegorical figures, to 
 show in honor of a prince, who, in my opinion, merits quite a dilTereut 
 eulogy ■? How can it flatter any reasonable man to see himself set up 
 in effigy, and his name glimmering on oiled pajjer ! I am very much 
 afraid that your allegories, particularly in the present state of the ward- 
 robe, will furnish occasion for many ambiguities and jestings. If you 
 mean, however, to compose the piece, or make it be composed, I can 
 have nothing to object against it ; only I desire to have no part or lot 
 in the matter." 
 
 Melina excused himself ; alleging this to be only a casual hint of 
 his lordship the count, who for the rest had left the arrangement of 
 the piece entirely in their own hands. " With all my heart," replied 
 our friend, ' ' will I contribute something to the pleasure of this noble 
 family ; my muse has never had so pleasant an employment as to 
 .sing, though in broken numbers, to the praise of a prince who merits 
 so much veneration. I will think of the matter ; perhaps I may be 
 able to contrive some way of bringing out our little troup, so as at 
 least to produce some effect." 
 
 From this moment, Wilhelm eagerly reflected on his undertaking. 
 Before going to sleep, he had got it all reduced to some degree of 
 order ; early next morning his plan was ready, the scenes laid out ; a 
 few of the most striking passages and songs were even versified and 
 written down. 
 
 As soon as he was dressed, our friend made haste to wait upon the 
 baron, to submit the plan to his inspection, and take his advice upon 
 certain points connected with it. The baron testified his approbation 
 of it ; but not without considerable surprise. For, on the previous 
 evening, he had heard his lordship talk of having ordered some quite 
 different piece to be prepared and versified. 
 
 "To me it seems improbable," replied our friend, "that it could 
 be his lordship's wish to have the piece got ready, exactly as he gave 
 it to Melina. If I am not mistaken, he intended merely to point out 
 to us from a distance the path we were to follow. The amateur and 
 critic shows the artist what is wanted ; and then leaves to him the 
 care of producing it by his own means." 
 
 " Not at all," replied the baron: "his lordship understands that 
 the piece shall be composed according to that and no other plan, 
 which he has himself prescribed. Yours has indeed a remote simi- 
 larity with his idea ; but, if we mean to accomplish our purpose, and
 
 128 MEISTHR'S APPHENTICESniP. 
 
 get the count diverted from liis first tlioiiglit, we shall need to em' 
 ploy the ladies in the matter. The baroness especially contrives to 
 execute such operations in the most masterly manner : the question 
 is now, whether your plan shall so please her, that she will under- 
 take the business ; in that case it will certainly succeed." 
 
 "We need the assistance of the ladies," said our friend, " at any 
 rate ; for neither our company nor our wardrobe would suffice without 
 them. I have counted on some pretty children, they are running up 
 and down the house, and belong to certain of the servants." 
 
 He then desired the baron to communicate liis plan to the ladies. 
 The baron soon returned with intelligence that they wished to speak 
 with Wilhelm personally. That same evening, when the gentlemen 
 sat down to play, which, owing to the arrival of a certain general, was 
 expected to be deeper and keener than usual, the countess and her 
 friend, under pretext of some indisposition, would retire to their 
 chamber ; where Wilhelm, being introduced by a secret staircase, 
 might submit his project without interruption. This sort of mystery, 
 the baron said, would give the adventure a peculiar charm ; in par- 
 ticular the baroness was rejoicing like a child, in the prospect of their 
 rendezvous ; and the more so, because it was to be accomplished 
 secretly and against the inclination of the count. 
 
 Towards evening, at the appointed time, Wilhelm was sent for, 
 and led in with caution. As the baroness advanced to meet him in a 
 small cabinet, the manner of their interview brought former happy 
 scenes, for a moment, to his mind. She conducted him along to the 
 countess's chamber ; and they now proceeded earnestly to question 
 and investigate. He exhibited his plan with the utmost warmth and 
 vivacity : so that his fair audience were quite decided in its favor. 
 Our readers also will permit us to present a brief sketcli of it here. 
 
 The piece was to open with a dance of children in some rural 
 scene ; their dance representing that particular game, wherein each 
 has to wheel round and gain the other's place. This was to be fol- 
 lowed by several variations of their play ; till at last, in performing 
 a dance of the repeating kind, they were all to sing a merry song. 
 Here the old harper with Mignon should enter, and by the curiosity 
 which they excited, gather several country people round them; the 
 harper would sing various songs in praise of peace, repose and joy ; 
 and Mignon would then dance the egg-dance. 
 
 In these innocent delights, they are disturbed by the sound of 
 martial music ; and the party are surprised by a troop of soldiers. 
 The men stand on the defensive, and are overcome ; the girls fly, and 
 are taken. In the tumult all seems going to destruction, when a per- 
 son (about whose form and qualities the poet was not yet detenuined) 
 enters, and by signifying that the general is near, restores composure. 
 Whereupon the hero's character is painted in the finest colors ; secu- 
 rity is promised in the midst of arms; violencoand lawless disorder 
 are now to be restrained. A universal festival is held in honor of 
 the noble-minded captain.
 
 BOOK III. CHAPTER VIL 129 
 
 The countess aud her friend expressed great satisfaction wltli the 
 plan ; only they luaiutained that there must of necessity be some 
 thing of allegory introduced, to make it palatable to his lordship. 
 The baron proposed that the leader of the soldiers should be repre- 
 sented as the genius of dissension and violence ; that Miverva should 
 then advance to bind fetters on him, to give notice of the hero's ap- 
 proach, and celebrate his praise. The baroness undertook the task ofi 
 persuading the count, that this plan was the one jjroposed by himself i , 
 with a fesv alterations : at the same time expressly stipulating that, Y 
 without fail, at the conclusion of the piece, the bust, the illuminated 
 name, and the princely hat, should be exhibited in due order ; since 
 otherwise her attempt was vain. 
 
 Wilhelm had already figured in his mind how delicately and how 
 nobly he would have the praises of the hero celebrated in the mouth 
 of Minerva ; and it was not without a long struggle that he yielded 
 in this point. Yet he felt himself delightfully constrained to yield. 
 The beautiful eyes of the countess, and her lovely demeanor, would 
 easily have moved him to sin against his conscience as a poet ; to 
 abandon the finest and most interesting invention, the keenly wislied- 
 for unity of his composition, and all of its most suitable details. His 
 conscience as a burgher had a trial no less hard to undergo, when the 
 ladies, in distributing the characters, pointedly insisted that he must 
 undertake one himself. 
 
 Laertes had received for his allotment the part of that violent war- 
 god ; Wilhelm was to represent the leader of the peasants, who had 
 some very pretty and tender verses to recite. After long resistance 
 he was forced to comply ; he could find no excuse, when the baroness 
 protested that their stage was in all respects to be regarded as a private 
 one, and that she herself would very gladly play on it, if they could 
 find her a fit occasion. On receiving his consent, they parted with 
 our friend on tlie kindest terms. The baroness assured him that he 
 was an incomparable man ; she accompanied him to the little stairs 
 and wished him good-night with a squeeze of the haftd, 
 
 CHAPTER VH. 
 
 The interest in his undertakings, which the countess and her friend 
 expre.ssed and felt so warmly, quickened Wilhelm's faculties and zeal ; 
 the plan of his piece, which the process of describing it had rendered 
 more distinct, was now present in the most brilliant vividness before 
 his mind. He spent the greater part of that night, and the whole of 
 next morning, in the sedulous versification of the dialogue and songs. 
 
 He had proceeded a considerable Avay, when a message came requir- 
 ing his attendance in the castle ; the noble company, who were then 
 Meisteii — 5
 
 130 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 at breakfast, wished to speak with him. As he entered tlie parlor, 
 the baroness advanced to meet him : and, under pretext of wishing 
 him good-morning, whispered cunningly : " Say nothing of your 
 piece, but what you shall be asked." 
 
 " I hear," cried the count to him, " that you are very busy working 
 at my prelude, which I mean to present in honor of the prince. I con- 
 sent that you introduce a Minerva into it ; and we are just thinking 
 beforehand how the goddess shall be dressed, that we may not blun- 
 der in costume. For this purpose I am causing them to fetch from 
 the library all the books that contain any figures of her." 
 
 At the same instant one or two servants entered the parlor, with a 
 huge basket full of books of every shape and appearance. 
 
 Montfaucon, the collections of antique statues, gems and coins, all 
 sorts of mythological writings, were tui-ned up, and their plates com- 
 pared. But even this was not enough. Tlie count's faithful memory 
 recalled to him all of the Minervas to be found in frontispieces, 
 vignettes, or anywhere else ; and book after book was, in conse- 
 sequence, carried from the library, till finally .the count was sitting in 
 a chaos of volumes. Unable at last to recollect any other figure 
 of JNIinerva, he observed with a smile: "I durst bet, that now 
 there is not a single Minerva in all the library ; and perhaps it is the 
 first time that a collection of books has been so totally deprived of 
 the presence of its patron goddess." 
 
 The whole company were merry at this thought ; Jarno particularly, 
 who had all along been spurring on the count to call for more and 
 more books, laughed quite immoderately. 
 
 " Now," said the count, tui-nlng to Wilhelm, " one chief point is : 
 Which goddess do you mean ? Minerva or Pallas ? The goddess 
 of war or of the arts ? " 
 
 "Would it not be best, your excellency," said Wilhelm, "if we 
 were not clearly to express ourselves on this head ; if, since the 
 goddess plays a double part in the ancient mythology, we also ex- 
 hibited her here in a double quality ? She announces a warrior, but 
 only to calm the tumults of the people ; she celebrates a hero by 
 exalting his humanity ; she conquers violence, and restores peace and 
 security." 
 
 The baroness, afraid lest Wilhelm might betray himself, hastily 
 pushed forward the countess's tailor, to give his opinion how such an 
 antique robe could best be got ready. This man, being frequently 
 employed in making naasquerade dresses, very easily contrived the 
 business ; and as Madam Melina, notwithstanding her advanced state 
 of pregnancy, had undertaken to enact the celestial virgin, the tailor 
 was directed to take her measure : and the countess, though with some 
 reluctance, selected from the wardrobe the clothes he was to cut up 
 for that purpose. 
 
 The baroness, in her dexterous way, again contrived to lead Wilhelm 
 aside, and let him know that she had been providing all the other
 
 BOOK III. CHAPTER VII. 131 
 
 necessaries. Shortly afterwards, she sent him the musician, who had 
 charge of the count's private band ; and this professor set about com- 
 posing what airs were wanted, or choosing from his actual stock such 
 tunes as appeared suitable. From this time all went on according to 
 the wishes of our friend : the count made no more inquiries about the 
 piece ; being altogether occupied with tl>e transparent decoration, des- 
 tined to surprise the spectators at the conclusion of the play. His in- 
 ventive genius, aided by the skill of his confectioner, produced in fact 
 a very pretty article. In the course of his travels, the count had wit- 
 nessed the most splendid exhibitions of this sort ; he had also brought 
 home with him a number of copper-plates and drawings, and could 
 sketch such things with considerable taste. 
 
 Meanwhile Wilhelm finished the play ; gave every one his part, 
 and began the study of his own. The musician also, having great skill 
 in dancing, prepared the ballet ; so that everything proceeded as it 
 ought. 
 
 Yet one unexpected obstacle occurred, which threatened to occasion 
 an unpleasant gap in the performance. He had promised to himself 
 a striking effect from Mignon's egg-dance ; and was much surprised 
 when the child, with her customary dryness of manner, refused to 
 dance, saying she was now his, and would no more go upon the stage. 
 He sought to move her by every sort of persuasion, and did not dis- 
 continue his attempt till she began Weeping bitterly, fell at his feet, 
 and cried out, "Dearest father ! stay thou from the boards thyself ! " 
 Little heeding this caution, he studied how to give the scene some 
 other turn that might be equally interesting. 
 
 Philina, whose appointment was to act one of the peasant girls, and 
 in the concluding dance to give the single- voice part of the song, and 
 lead the chorus, felt exceedingly delighted that it had been so ordered. 
 In other respects too, her present life was altogether to her mind ; she 
 had her separate chamber; was constantly beside the countess, enter- 
 taining her with fooleries, and daily receiving some present for her 
 pains. Among other things, a dress had been expressly made for her 
 wearing in this prelude. And being of a light imitative nature, she 
 quickly marked in the procedure of the ladies whatever would befit 
 herself : she had of late grown all politeness and decorum. The at- 
 tentions of the stallmeister augmented rather than diminished ; and, 
 as the officers also paid zealous court to her, living in so genial an 
 element, it came into her head for once in her life to play the prude, 
 and, in a quiet gradual way, to take upon herself a certain dignity of 
 manner to which she had not before aspired. Cool and sharp-sighted 
 as she was, eight days had not elapsed till she knew the weak side of 
 every person in the hou.se ; so that, had she possessed the power of 
 acting from any constant motive, she might very easily have made 
 her fortune. But on this occasion, as on all others, she employed her 
 advantages merely to divert herself, to procure a bright to -day, and 
 be impertinent, wherever she observed that impertinence was not 
 attended with danger.
 
 133 MEISTEB'S APPBENTIGE8EIP. 
 
 The parts were now committed to memory ; a reliearsal of tlie piece 
 was ordered ; the count proposed to be present at it ; and his lady 
 began to feel anxious how he might receive it. The baroness called 
 Wilhelm to her privately : the nearer the hour approached, they all 
 disjilayed the more perplexity ; for the truth was, that of the count's 
 original idea nothing whatever had been introduced. Jarno, who 
 joined them while consulting together, was admitted to the secret. 
 He felt amused at the contrivance, and was heartily disposed to offer 
 the ladies his good services in carrying it through. " It will go hard," 
 said he, "if you cannot extricate yourselves without help from this 
 afEair ; but, at all events, I will wait as a body of reserve." The 
 baroness then told them how she had on various occasions recited the 
 whole piece to the count, but only in fragments and without order ; 
 that consequently he was prepared for each individual passage, yet 
 certainly possessed with the idea that the whole would coincide with 
 his original conception. "I will sit by him," said she, "to-night 
 at the rehearsal, and study to divert his attention. ' The confectioner 
 I have engaged already to make the decoration as beautiful as possible, 
 but as yet he has not quite completed it. 
 
 "I know of a court," said Jarno, "where I wish we had a few 
 such active and prudent friends as you. If your skill to-night will 
 not suffice, give me a signal ; I will take out the count, and not let 
 him in again till Minerva enters, and you have speedy aid to expect 
 from the illumination. For a day or two, I have had something to 
 report to hira about his cousin, which for various reasons I have 
 hitherto postponed. It will give his thoughts another turn, and that 
 none of the pleasantest." 
 
 Business hindered the count from being present when the play 
 began ; the baroness amused him after his arrival ; Jarno's help was 
 not required. For, as the count had abundance of employment in 
 pointing out improvements, rectifying and arranging the detached 
 parts, he entirely forgot the purport of the whole ; and as at last 
 Madam Melina advanced and spoke according to his heart, and the 
 transparency did well, he seemed completely satisfied. It was not till 
 the whole was finished, and his guests were sitting down to cards, 
 that the difference appeared to strike him, and he began to think 
 whether after all this piece was actually of his invention. At a signal 
 from the baroness, Jarno then came forward into action ; the evening 
 passed away ; the intelligence of the prince's approach was confirmed ; 
 the people rode out more than once to see his vanguard encamping in 
 the neighborhood ; the house was full of noise and tumult ; and our 
 actors, not always served in the handsomest manner by unwilling 
 servants, had to pass their time in practicings and expectations, at 
 their quarters in the old mansion, without any one particularly taking 
 thought about them.
 
 BOOK III. CHAPTER VIZI. 133 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 At lengtli the prince arrived, with all his generals, staff-oflScers 
 and suite accompanying him. Tliese, and the multitude of people 
 coming to visit or do business with him, made the castle like a bee- 
 hive on the point of swarming. All presyed forward to behold a man 
 no less distinguished by his rank than by his great qualities ; and all 
 admired his urbanity and condescension ; all were astonished at find- 
 ing the hero and the leader of armies also the most accomplished and 
 attractive courtier. 
 
 By the count's orders, the inmates of tlie castle were required to be 
 all at their posts when the prince arrived ; not a player was allowed to 
 show himself, that his highness might have no anticipation of the spec- 
 tacle prepared to welcome him. Accordingly, when at evening he was 
 led into the lofty hall, glowing with light, and adorned with tapes- 
 tries of the previous century, he seemed not at all prepared to expect 
 a play, and still less a prelude in honor of himself. Everything went 
 off as it should have done : at the conclusion of the show, the whole 
 troup were called and presented individually to the prince, who con- 
 trived with the most pleasing and friendly air to put some question, 
 or make some remark, to every one of them. Wilhelm, as author of 
 the piece, was particularly noticed, and had his tribute of applause 
 liberally paid him. 
 
 The prelude being fairly over, no one asked another word about it ; 
 in a few days, it was as if it never had existed, except that occasionally 
 Jarno spoke of it to Wilhelm, judiciously jn-aised it, adding, how- 
 ever : " It is a pity you should play with hollow nuts for a stake of 
 hollow nuts." Tliis expression stuck in Wilhelm's mind for several 
 days ; he knew not how to explain it, or what to infer from it. 
 
 Meanwhile the comjiany kept acting every night, as well as their 
 capacities permitted ; each doing his utmost to attract the attention of 
 spectators. Undeserved applauses cheered them on : in their old 
 castle they fully believed, that the great assemblage was crowding 
 thither solely on their account ; that the multitude of strangers was 
 allured by their exhibitions ; that they were the center round which, 
 and by means of which, the whole was moving and revolving. 
 
 Wilhelm alone, discovered, to his sorrow, that directly the reverse, 
 was true. For although the prince had waited out the first exhibi-| 
 tions, sitting on his chair, with the greatest conscientiousness, yet bW 
 degrees he grew remiss in his attendance, and seized every plausiblej 
 occasion of withdrawing. And those very people whom Wilhelm, in 
 conversation, had found to be the best informed and most sensible, 
 with Jarno at their head, were wont to spend but a few transitory 
 moments in the hall of the theater ; sitting for the rest of their tim^ 
 
 i
 
 134 MEI8TER' 8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 in tlie ante-chamber, gaming, or seeming to employ themselves in 
 business. 
 
 Amid all his persevering efforts, to want the wished and hoped-for 
 approbation grieved Wilhelm very deeply. In the choice of plays, 
 in transcribing the parts, in numerous rehearsals, and whatever 
 farther could be done, he zealously co-operated with Melina, who, 
 being in secret conscious of his own insufficiency, at length acknowl- 
 edged and pursued these counsels. His own parts Wilhelm diligently 
 studied ; and executed with vivacity and feeling, and with all the 
 propriety which the little training he had yet received would allow. 
 
 At the same time, the unwearied interest which the baron took in 
 their performances, obliterated every doubt from the minds of the 
 rest of the company : he assured them that their exhibitions were 
 producing the deepest effect, especially while one of his own pieces 
 had been representing ; only he was grieved to say, the prince showed 
 an exclusive inclination for the French theater ; while a part of his 
 people, among whom Jarno was especially distinguished, gave a 
 passionate preference to the monstrous productions of the English 
 stage. 
 
 If in this way the art of our players was not adequately noticed and 
 admired, their persons, on the other hand, grew not entirely indiffer- 
 ent to all the gentlemen and all the ladies of the audience. We ob- 
 served above, that from the very first our actresses had drawn upon 
 them the attention of the young officers ; in the sequel they were 
 luckier, and made more important conquests. But omitting these, 
 we shall merely observe, that Wilhelm every day appeared more in- 
 teresting to the countess, Avhile in him too a silent inclination towards 
 her was beginning to take root. Whenever he was on the stage, she 
 could not turn her eyes from him ; and ere long he seemed to play 
 and to recite with his face towards her alone. To look upon each 
 other was to them the sweetest satisfaction ; to which their harmless 
 souls yielded without reserve, without cherishing a bolder wish, or 
 thinking about any consequence. 
 
 As two hostile outposts will sometimes peacefully and pleasantly 
 converse together, across the river v/hich divides them, not thinking 
 of the war in which both their countries are engaged, so did the 
 countess exchange looks full of meaning with our friend, across 
 the vast chasm of birth and rank, both believing for themselves that 
 they might safely cherish their several emotions. 
 
 The baroness, in the meantime, had selected Laertes, who, being a 
 spirited and lively young man, pleased her very much ; and who, 
 woman-hater as he was, felt unwilling to refuse a passing adventure. 
 He would actually on this occasion have been fettered, against his 
 will, by the courteous and attractive nature of the baroness, had not 
 the baron done him accidentally a piece of good, or if you will, of bad 
 service, by instructing him a little in the habits and temper of this 
 lady.
 
 BOOK III CHAPTER VIll. 135 
 
 Laertes happening once to celebrate lier praises, and give her the 
 preference to every other of her sex, the baron with a grin replied : 
 " I see how matters stand ; our fair friend has got a fresh inmate for 
 her stalls." This luckless comparison, which pointed too clearly to 
 the dangerous caresses of a Circe, grieved poor Laertes to the heart ; 
 he could not listen to the baron without spite and anger, as the latter 
 continued without mercy : 
 
 " Every stranger thinks he is the first, whom this delightful man- 
 ner of proceeding has concerned ; but he is grievously mistaken ; for 
 we have all, at one time or another, been trotted round this course. 
 Man, youth, or boy, be who he like, each must devote himself to her 
 service for a season, must hang about her, and toil and long to gain 
 her favor." 
 
 To the happy man, just entering the garden of an enchantress, and ~] 
 welcomed by all the pleasures of an artificial spring, nothing can ' 
 form a more unpleasant surprise, than if, while his ear is watching 
 and drinking in the music of the nightingales, some transformed 
 predecessor on a sudden grunts at his feet. ,j 
 
 After this discovery, Laertes felt heartily ashamed, that vanity 
 should have again misled him to think well, even in the smallest de- 
 gree, of any woman whatsoever. He now entirely forsook the 
 baroness ; kept by the stallmeister, with wliom he diligently fenced 
 and hunted ; conducting himself at rehearsals and representations as 
 if these were but secondary matters. 
 
 The count and his lady would often in the mornings send for some 
 of the company to attend them ; and all had continual cause to envy 
 the undeserved good fortune of Philina. The count kept his favor- 
 ite, the pedant, frequently for hours together, at his toilet. This 
 genius had been dressed-out by degrees ; he was now equipped and 
 furnished even to watcli and snuff-box. 
 
 Many times, too, particularly after dinner, the whole company were 
 called out before the noble guests ; an honor whicli the artists regarded 
 as the most flattermg in the world ; not observing, that on these very 
 occasions the servants and huntsmen were ordered to bring in a multi- 
 tude of hounds, and to lead strings of horses about the court of the 
 castle. 
 
 Wilhelm had been counseled to praise Racine, the prince's favorite, 
 and thereby to attract some portion of liis highness's favor to himself. 
 On one of these afternoons, being summoned with the rest, he found 
 an opportunity to introduce this topic. The prince asked him if he 
 diligently read the great French dramatic writers ; to Avhich Wilhelm 
 answered with a very eager " Yes." He did not observe that his high- 
 ness, without waiting for the answer, was already on the point of i 
 turning round to some one else : he fixed upon him, on the contrary, ; 
 almost stepping in his way ; and proceeded to declare, that he valued 
 the French theater very highly, and read the works of the great mas- 
 ters with delight ; particularly he had learned with true joy that his
 
 186 MEISTER'8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 liigliness did complete justice to the great talents of Racine. "I 
 can easily conceive," continued lie, "how people of high breeding 
 and exalted rank must value a poet, who has painted so excellently 
 and so truly the circumstances of their lofty station. Corneille, if I 
 may say so, has delineated great men ; Eacine men of eminent rank. 
 In reading his plays, I can always figure to myself the poet as living 
 at a splendid court, with a great king before his eyes, in constant 
 intercourse with the most distinguished persons, and penetrating into 
 the secrets of human nature, as it works concealed behind the gor- 
 geous tapestry of palaces. When I study his Britannicus, his Berenice, 
 it seems as if I were transported in person to the court, were initiated 
 into the great and the little in the habitations of these earthly gods ; 
 through the fine and delicate organs of my author, I see kings whom 
 a nation adores, courtiers whom thousands envy, in their natural 
 forms, with their failings and their pains. The anecdote of Racine's 
 dying of a broken heart, because Louis Fourteenth would no longer 
 attend to him, and had shown him his dissatisfaction, is to me the 
 key to all his works. It was impossible that a poet of his talents, 
 whose life and death depended on the looks of a king, should not 
 write such works as a king and a prince might applaud. " 
 
 Jarno had stepped near, and was listening with astonishment. The 
 prince, who had made no answer, and had only shown his approba- 
 tion by an assenting look, now turned aside ; though Wilhelm, who 
 did not know that it was contrary to etiquette to continue a discussion 
 under such circumstances and exhaust a subject, would gladly have 
 spoken more, and convinced the prince that he had not read his favor- 
 ite poet without sensibility and profit. 
 
 "Have you never," said Jarno, taking him aside, "read one of 
 Shakespeare's plays ? " 
 
 " No," replied Wilhelm : " since the time when they became more 
 known in Germany, I have myself grown unacquainted with the 
 theater : and I know not whether 1 should now rejoice that an old 
 taste, and occupation of my youth, has been by chance renewed. In 
 the meantime, all that I have heard of these ])hiys lias excited little 
 wish to become acquainted with such extraordinary monsters, which 
 appear to set probability and dignity alike at defiance." 
 
 " I would advise you," said the other, "to make a trial, notwith- 
 standing : it can do one no harm to look at what is extraordinary with 
 one's own eyes. I Avill lend you a volume or two ; and you cannot 
 better spend your time, than by casting everything aside, and retiring 
 to the solitude of your old habitation, to look into the magic-lantern 
 of tliat unknown world. It is sinful of you to waste your hours in 
 dressing out tliese a]ies to look more human, and teaciiing dogs to 
 dance. One thing only I recpiire : you must not cavil at tlu' form ; 
 the rest I leave to your own good sense and feeling." 
 
 The liorses were standing at the door, and Jarno mounted with some 
 other cavaliers to go and hunt. Wilhelm looked afti'r him with .sad-
 
 BOOK III. CHAPTER IX. 137 
 
 ness. He would fain have spoken mucli with this man, who, though 
 in a harsh, unfriendly way, gave him new ideas — ideas that he had 
 need of. 
 
 Oftentimes a man when approaching some development of his 
 powers, capacities and conceptions, gets into a perplexity, from which 
 a prudent friend might easily deliver him. He resembles a traveler, 
 who, at but a short distance from the inn he is to rest at, falls into 
 the water ; were any one to catch him then, and pull him to the 
 bank, with one good wetting it were over ; whereas, though he strug- 
 gles out himself, it is often at the side where he tumbled in, and he 
 has to make a wide and weary circuit before reaching his appointed 
 object. 
 
 Wilhelm now began to have an inkling that things went forward in 
 the woi'ld differently from what he had supposed. He now viewed 
 \ close at hand the solemn and imposing life of the great and distin-, 
 I guished ; and wondered at the easy dignity which they contrived toi 
 give it. An army on its march, a princely hero at the head of it, such 
 la multitude of co-operating warriors, such a multitude of crowding 
 worshipei's, exalted his imagination. In this mood he received the 
 promised books ; and ere long, as may be easily supposed, the stream 
 of that mighty genius laid hold of him, and led him down to a shore- 
 less ocean, where he soon completely forgot and lost himself. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The connection between the baron and the actors had suffered vari- 
 ous changes since the arrival of the latter. At the commencement it 
 had been productive of great satisfaction to both parties. As the baron 
 for the first time in his life now saw one of those pieces, with which 
 he had already graced a private theater, put into the hands of real 
 actors, and in the fair way for a decent exhibition, he showed the 
 benignest humor in the world. He was liberal in gifts ; he bought 
 little presents for the actresses from every millinery hawker, and con- 
 trived to send over many an odd bottle of champagne to the actors. 
 In return for all this our company took every sort of trouble with his 
 play ; and Wilhelm spared no diligence in learning, with extreme 
 correctness, the sublime speeches of that very eminent hero, whose 
 part had fallen to his share. 
 
 But, in spite of all these kind reciprocities, some clouds by degrees 
 arose between the players and their patron. The baron's preference ) 
 for certain actors became daily more observable : this, of necessity, .' 
 chagrined the rest. He exalted his favorites quite exclusively ; and j 
 thus, of course, he introduced disunion and jealousy among the com-
 
 138 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 pany. Melina, without skill to help liimself in dubious junctures, 
 felt his situation very vexing. The persons eulogized accepted of 
 tlieir praise, without being singularly thankful for it : while the neg- 
 lected gentlemen showed traces of their spleen by a thousand methods, 
 and constantly found means to make it very disagreeable for their 
 once much-honored patron to appear among them. Their spite 
 received no little nourishment from a certain poem, by an unknown 
 author, which made a great sensation in the castle. Previously to 
 this, the baron's intercourse with the company had given rise to many 
 little strokes of merriment ; several stories had been raised about 
 him ; certain little incidents, adorned with suitable additions, and 
 presented in the proper light, had been talked of, and made the sub- 
 ject of much bantering and laughter. At last it began to be said that 
 a certain rivalry of trade was arising between him and some of the 
 actors, who also looked upon themselves as writers. The poem we 
 spoke of was founded upon this report ; it ran as follows : 
 
 I, poor devil. Lord Baron, 
 Must envy you your crest of arms. 
 The coach you ride in, coat you've on, 
 Tour copses, ponds, and rack-rent farms, 
 Your father's polish'd ashlar house, 
 And all his hounds and hares and grouse. 
 
 Me, poor devil. Lord Baron, 
 You envy my small shred of wit ; 
 Because it seems, as things have gone. 
 Old Nature had a hand in it ; 
 She made me light of heart and gay. 
 With long-necked purse, not brain of clay 
 
 Look you now, dear Lord Baron, 
 What if we both should cease to fret, 
 You being his lordship's eldest sou. 
 And I being mother Nature's brat ? 
 We live in peace, all envy chase, 
 And heed not which o' th' two Burpasses ; 
 I in the herald's books no place, 
 You having none about Parnassus. 
 
 Upon this poem, which, various persons were possessed of, in copies 
 scarcely legible, opinions were exceedingly divided. But who the 
 author was, no one could guess ; and as some began to draw a spite- 
 ful mirth from it, our friend expressed himself against it very keenly. 
 
 " We Germans," he exclaimed, "deserve to have our muses still 
 continue in the low contempt wherein they have languished so long ; 
 since we carmot value men of rank who take a share in our literature, 
 no matter how. Birth, rank and fortune are no wise incompatible 
 with genius and taste ; as foreign nations, reckoning among their 
 best minds a great number of noblemen, can fully testify. Hitherto 
 indeed it has ))een rare in (ilermany for men of high station to devote 
 tlieniselves to science ; hitherto few famous names have become more 
 famous by their love of art jmd learning ; while many, on the other
 
 BOOK III. CHAPTEU IX. I3d 
 
 kand, have mounted out of darkness to distinction, and risen like un- 
 known stars on the horizon. Yet such will not always be the case ; 
 and I greatly err, if the first classes of the nation are not even now 
 in the way of also employing their advantages to earn the fairest 
 laurels of the muses, at no distant date. Nothing, therefore, grieves 
 me more than to see the burgher jeering at the noble who can value 
 literature ; nay, even men of rank themselves, with inconsiderate ca- 
 price, maliciously scaring oif their equal from a path where honor and 
 contentment wait on all." 
 
 Apparently this latter observation pointed at the count, of whom 
 Wilhelm had heard that he liked the poem very much. In truth, 
 this nobleman, accustomed to rally the baron in his own peculiar way, 
 was extremely glad of such an opportunity to plague his kinsman 
 more effectually. As to who the writer of the squib might be, each 
 formed his own hypothesis ; and the count, never willing that another 
 should surpass him in acuteness, fell upon a thought, which, in a short 
 time, he would have sworn to the truth of. The verses could be 
 written, he believed, by no one but his pedant, who was a very shrewd 
 knave, and in whom, for a long while, he had noticed some touches 
 of poetic genius. By way of proper treat, he therefore caused the 
 pedant one morning to be sent for, and made him read the poem, in 
 his own manner, in presence of the countess, the baroness, and Jarno ; 
 a service he was paid for by applauses, praises and a present ; and on 
 the count's inquiring if he had not still some other poems of an earlier 
 time, he cunningly tried to evade the question. Thus did the pedant 
 get invested with the reputation of a poet and a wit ; and in the eyes 
 of the baron's friends, of a pasquinader and a bad-hearted man. 
 From that period, play as he might, the count applauded him with 
 greater zeal than ever ; so that the poor wight grew at last inflated 
 till he nearly lost his senses, and began to meditate having a chani- 
 ber in the castle like Philina. 
 
 Had this project been fulfilled at once, a great mishap might have 
 been spared him. As he was returning late one evening from the 
 castle, groping about in the dark narrow way, he was suddenly laid 
 hold of, and kept on the spot by some persons, while some others 
 rained a shower of blows upon him, and battered him so stoutly, that 
 in a few seconds he was lying almost dead upon the place, and could 
 not without ditficulty crawl in to his companions. These, indignant 
 as they seemed to be at such an outrage, felt their secret joy in the 
 adventure ; they could hardly keep from laughing at seeing him so 
 thoroughly curried, and his new brown coat bedusted through and 
 through, and bedaubed with white, as if he had had to do with millers. 
 
 The count, who soon got notice of the business, broke into a bound- 
 less rage. He treated this act as the most heinous crime ; called it 
 an infringement of the burgfried, or peace of the castle, and caused 
 his judge to make the strictest inquisition touching it. The whited 
 coat, it was imagined, would afford a leading proof. Every creature,
 
 140 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 that possibly could liave the smallest trade with Hour or powder in 
 the castle, was submitted to investigation ; but in vain. 
 
 The baron solemnly protested on his honor, that although this sort 
 of jesting had considerably displeased him, and the conduct of his 
 lordship the count had not been the friendliest, yet he had got over 
 the afEair ; and with respect to the misfortune which had come upon 
 the poet, or pasquinader, or whatsoever his title might be, he knew 
 absolutely nothing, and had not the most remote concern in it. 
 
 The operations of the strangers, and the general commotion of the 
 house, soon effaced all recollection of the matter ; and so, without 
 redress, the unlucky favorite had to pay dear for the satisfaction of 
 pluming himself, a short while, in feathers not his own. 
 
 Our troup, regularly acting every night, and on the whole very 
 decently treated, now began to make more clamorous demands, the 
 better they were dealt with. Ere long their victuals, drink, attend- 
 ance, lodging, grew inadequate ; and they called upon the baron, their 
 protector, to provide more liberally for them, and at last make good 
 those promises of comfortable entertainment, which he had been 
 giving them so long. Their- complaints grew louder ; and the efforts 
 of our friend to still them more and more abortive. 
 
 Meanwhile, excepting in rehearsals and hours of acting, Wilhelm 
 scarcely ever came abroad. Shut up in one of the remotest chambers, 
 to which Mignon and the harper alone had free access, he lived and 
 moved in the Shakespearean world, feeling or knowing nothing but 
 the movements of his own mind. 
 
 We have heard of some enchanter summoning, by magic formulas, 
 a vast multitude of spiritual shapes into his cell. The conjurations 
 are so powerful that the whole space of the apartment is quickly full ; 
 and the spirits crowding on to the verge of the little circle which 
 they must not pass, around this, and above their master's head, keep 
 increasing in number, and ever whirling in perpetual transformation. 
 Every corner is crammed, every crevice is possessed. Embryos ex- 
 pand themselves, and giant forms contract into the size of nuts. Un- 
 liappily the black-artist has forgot the counter- word, with which he 
 might command this flood of sprites again to ebb. 
 
 ,' , So sat Wilhelm in his privacy ; with unknown movements, a thou-' 
 
 ) sand feelings and capacities awoke in him, of which he formerly had 
 
 neither notion nor anticipation. Nothing could allure him from this 
 
 state ; he was vexed and restless if any one presumed to come to him, 
 
 and talk of news or what was passing in the world. 
 
 Accordingly he scarce took notice of the circumstance, when told 
 that a judicial sentence was about being executed in the castle yard : 
 the flogging of a boy, who had incurred suspicions of nocturnal house- 
 breaking, and who, as he wore a peruke-maker's coat, had most prob- 
 ably been one of the assaulters of the pedant. The boy indeed, it 
 seemed, denied most obstinately ; so that they could not inflict a for- 
 mal punishment, but meant to give him a slight memorial as a vaga-
 
 BOOK 111. CHAPTER TX. 141 
 
 bond, and send him about his business ; he having prowled about the 
 neighborhood for several days, lain at night in the mills, and at last 
 clapped a ladder to the garden- wall, and mounted over by it. 
 
 Our friend saw nothing very strange in the transaction, and was 
 dismissing it altogether, when Mignon came running in, and assured 
 him that the criminal was Friedrich, who, since the rencounter with 
 the stalhneister, had vanished from the company, and not again been 
 heard of. 
 
 Feeling an interest in the boy, Wilhelm hastily arose ; he found, 
 in the court-yard of the castle, the preparations almost finished. The 
 count loved solemnity on these occasions. The boy being now led out, 
 our friend stepped forward, and entreated for delay, as he knew the 
 boy, and had various things to say which might perhaps throw light 
 on the affair. He had difficulty in succeeding, notwithstanding all 
 his statements ; at length, however, he did get permission to speak 
 with the culprit in private. Friedrich averred, that concerning the 
 assault in which the pedant had been used so harshly, he knew noth- 
 ing whatever. He had merely been lurking about ; and had come in 
 at night to see Philina, whose room he had discovered, and would 
 certainly have reached, had he not been taken by the way. 
 
 For the credit of the company, Wilhelm felt desirous not to have 
 the truth of his adventure published. He hastened to the stall- 
 meister ; he begged him to show favor, and with his intimate knowl- 
 edge of men and things about the castle, to find some means of 
 quashing the affair, and dismissing the boy. 
 
 This whimsical gentleman, by Wilhelm's help, invented a little 
 story ; how the boy had belonged to the troup, had run away from it. 
 but soon wished to get back and be received again into his place ; 
 how he had accordingly been trying in tlie night to come at certain of 
 his well-wishers, and solicit their assistance. It was testified by 
 others that his former behavior had been good ; the ladies put their 
 hands to the work ; and Friedrich was let go. 
 
 Wilhelm took him in ; a third person in that strange family, which 
 for some time he had looked on as his own. The old man and little 
 Mignon received the returning wanderer kindly ; and all the three 
 combined to serve their friend and guardian with attention, and pro- 
 cure him all the pleasure in their power.
 
 1 42 MEISTEU 'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 PniLTNA now succeeded in insinuating farther every day into the 
 favor of the ladies. Whenever they were by themselves, she was 
 wont to lead the conversation on the men whom they saw about the 
 castle ; and our friend was not the last or least important that en- 
 gaged them. The cunning girl was well aware he had made a deep 
 impression on the countess ; she therefore talked about him often, 
 telling much that she knew or did not know ; only taking care to 
 speak of nothing that might be interpreted against him ; eulogizing, 
 on the contrary, his nobleness of mind, his generosity, and more than 
 all, his modest and respectful conduct to the fair sex. To all inquiries 
 made about him she replied with equal prudence ; and the baroness, 
 when she observed the growing inclination of her amiable friend, 
 was likewise very glad at the discovery. Her own intrigues with 
 several men, especially of late with Jarno, had not remained hidden 
 from the countess, whose pure soul could not look upon such levities 
 without disapprobation, and meek though earnest censures. 
 
 In this way, both Philina and the baroness were personally inter- 
 ested in establishing a closer intercourse between the countess and 
 our friend. Philina hoped, moreover, that there would occur some 
 opportunity, when she might once more labor for herself, and if pos- 
 sible, get back the favor of the young man she had lost. 
 
 One day his lordship with his guests had ridden out to hunt, and 
 their return was not expected till the morrow. On this, the baroness 
 devised a frolic, which was altogether in her way ; for she loved dis- 
 guises ; and in order to surprise her friends, would suddenly appear 
 among them as a peasant girl at one time, at another as a page, at an- 
 other as a hunter's boy. By which means she almost gave herself 
 the air of a little fairy, that is present everywhere, and exactly in 
 the place where it is least expected. Nothing could exceed this lady's 
 joy, if, without being recognized, she could contrive to wait upon the 
 company for some time as a servant, or mix among them anyhow, 
 and then at last in some sportful way disclose herself. 
 
 Towards night, she sent for Wilhelm to her chamber ; and, happen- 
 ing to have something else to do just then, she left Philina to receive 
 him and prepare him. 
 
 He arrived, and found to his surprise, not the honorable lady, but 
 the giddy actress in the room. She received him with a certain dig- 
 nified openness of manner, which she had of late been practicing, and 
 so constrained him likewise to be courteous. 
 
 At first she rallied him in general on the good fortune which pur- 
 sued him everywhere, and which, as she could not but see, had led 
 him hither, in the present case. Then she delicately set before him
 
 BOOK III. CHAPTER X. 143 
 
 the treatment with which of late he had afflicted her ; she blamed 
 aud upbraided herself ; confessed that she had but too well deserved 
 such punishment ; described with the greatest candor what she called 
 her former situation ; adding, that she would despise herself, if she 
 were not capable of altering, aud making lierself worthy of his friend- 
 ship. 
 
 'Wilhelm was struck with this oration. He had too little knowl-/ 
 edge of the world to understand that persons, quite unstable and! 
 incapable of all improvement, frequently accuse themselves in the; 
 bitterest manner, confessing and deploring their faults with extreme 
 ingenuousness, though they possess not the smallest power within 
 them to retire from that course, along which the irresistible tendency 
 of their nature is dragging them forward. Accordingly, he could not 
 ■find in his heart to behave inexorably to the graceful sinner ; he en- 
 tered into conversation, and learned from her the project of a singu- 
 lar disguisement, wherewith it was intended to surprise the countess. 
 
 He found some room for hesitation here ; nor did he hide his scru- 
 ples from Philina ; but the baroness, entering at this moment, left 
 him not an instant for reflection ; she hurried him away with her, 
 declaring it was just the proper hour. 
 
 It was now grown dark. She took him to the count's wardrobe ; 
 made him change his own coat with his lordship's silk night-gown ; 
 and put the cap with red trimmings on his head. She then led him 
 forward to the cabinet ; and bidding him sit down upon the large 
 chair, and take a book, she lit the Argand lamp, which stood before 
 him, and showed liim what he was to do, and what kind of part he 
 had to play. 
 
 They would inform the countess, she said, of her husband's unex- 
 pected arrival, and that he was in very bad humor. The countess 
 would come in, walk up and down the room once or twice, then place 
 herself beside the back of his chair, lay her arm upon his shoulder, 
 and speak a few words. He was to play the cross husband as long 
 and as well as possible : and when obliged to disclose himself, he 
 must behave politely, handsomely and gallantly. 
 
 Wilhelm was left sitting, restlessly enough, in this singular mask. 
 The proposal had come upon him by surprise ; the execution of it got 
 the start of the deliberation. The baroness had vanished from the 
 room, before he saw how dangerous the post was which he had en- 
 gaged to fill. He could not deny that the beauty, the youth, the 
 gracefulness of the countess had made some impression on him ; but 
 his nature was entirely averse to all empty gallantry, and his principles 
 forbade any thought of more serious enterprises ; so that his perplex- 
 ity at this moment was in truth extreme. The fear of displeasing 
 the countess, and that of pleasing her too well, were equally busy in 
 his mind. 
 
 Every female charm, that had ever acted on him, now showed 
 itself again to his imagination. Mariana rose before him in her white
 
 144 MEISTEB'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 morning-gown, and entreated liis remembrance. Pliilina's loveli- 
 ness, her beautiful hair, her insinuating blandishments, had again 
 become attractive by her late presence. Yet all this retired as if be- 
 hind the veil of distance, when he figured to himself the noble bloom- 
 ing countess, whose arm in a few minutes he would feel upon his 
 neck, whose innocent caresses he was there to answer. 
 
 The strange mode in which he was to be delivered out of this per- 
 plexity, he certainly did not anticipate. We may judge of his 
 astonishment, nay his terror, when the door opened behind him ; and 
 at the first stolen look in the mirror, he quite clearly discerned the 
 count coming in with a light in his hand. His doubt what he should 
 do, whether he should sit still or rise, should tly, confess, deny, or 
 beg forgiveness, lasted but a few instants. The count, who had 
 remained motionless standing in the door, retired and shut it softly. 
 At the same moment, the baroness sprang forward by the side door, 
 extinguished the lamp, tore Wilhelm from his chair, and hurried him 
 with her into the closet. Instantly, he threw off the night-gown, and 
 put it in its former place. The baroness took his coat under her arm, 
 and hastened with him through several rooms, passages and parti- 
 tions, into her chamber ; where Wilhelm, so soon as she recovered 
 breath, was informed that on going to the countess, and delivering 
 the fictitious intelligence about her husband's arrival, the countess 
 had answered: "I know it already; what can have happened ? I 
 saw him riding in, at the postern, even now." On which the baroness, 
 in an excessive panic, had run to the count's chamber to give warning. 
 
 " Unhappily you came too late ! " said Wilhelm. " The count was 
 in the room before you, and saw me sitting." . 
 
 " And recognized you ? " 
 
 " That I know not. He was looking at me in the glass, as I at 
 him ; and before I could well determine whether it was he or a spirit, 
 he di-ew back, and closed the door behind him." 
 
 The anxiety of the baroness increased, when a servant came to call 
 her, signifying that the count was with his lady. She went with no 
 light heart ; and found the count silent and thoughtful indeed, but 
 milder and kinder in his words than usual. She knew not what to 
 think of it. They spoke about the incidents of the chase, and the 
 causes of his quick return. The conversation soon ran out. The 
 count became taciturn ; and it struck the baroness particularly, when 
 he asked for Wilhelm, and expressed a wish that he were sent for, 
 to come and read something. 
 
 Wilhelm, who had now dressed himself in the baroness's chamber, 
 and in some degree recovered his composure, obeyed the order, not 
 without anxiety. The count gave hhii a book ; out of which he read 
 an adventurous tale, very little at his ease. Ilis voice had a certain 
 inconstancy and quivering in it, which fortunately C(irr(>sp()nded with 
 the import of the story. The count more than once gave kindly 
 tokens of approval ; and at last dismissed our friend, with praises of 
 liis exquisite manner of reading.
 
 BOOK III. CHAPTER XL 145 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 WiLHELM had scarcely read one or two of Shakespeare's plays, till 
 their effect on him became so strong that he could go no farther. His 
 whole soul was in commotion. He sought an opportunity to speak 
 with Jarno ; to whom, on meeting with him, he expressed his bound- 
 less gratitude for such delicious entertainment. 
 
 "I clearly enough foresaw," said Jarno, "that you would not re- 
 main insensible to the charms of the most extraordinary and most 
 admirable of all writers. " 
 
 " Yes ! " exclaimed our friend ; "I cannot recollect that any book, 
 any man, any incident of my life, has produced such important effects 
 on me, as the precious works, to which by your kindness I have been 
 directed. They seem as if they were performances of some celestial 
 genius, descending among men, to make them, by the mildest instruc- 
 tions, acquainted with themselves. They are no fictions ! You would 
 think, while reading them, you stood before the unclosed awful books! 
 of fate, while the whirlwind of most impassioned life was howling! 
 through the leaves, and tossing them fiercely to and fro. The strength 
 and tenderness, the power and peacefulness of this man have so 
 astonished and transported me, that I long vehemently for the time 
 when I shall have it in my power to read farther." 
 
 ' ' Bravo ! " said Jarno, holding out his hand, and squeezing our 
 friend's : ' ' this is as it should be ! And the consequences, which I 
 hope for, will likewise surely follow." 
 
 " I wish," said Wilhelm, " I could but disclose to you all that is 
 going on within me even now. All the anticipations I have ever had 
 regarding man and his destiny, which have accompanied me from 
 youth upwards, often unobserved by myself, I find developed and ful- 
 filled in Shakespeare's writings. It seems as if he cleared up every 
 one of our enigmas to us, though we cannot say ; HCTe or there is the 
 word of solution. His men appear like natural men, and yet they are 
 not. These, the most mysterious and complex productions of creation, 
 here act before us as if they were watches, whose dial-plates and cases 
 were of crystal ; which pointed out, according to their use, the course 
 of the hours and minutes ; while, at the same time, you could discern 
 the combination of wheels and springs that turned them. The few 
 glances I have cast over Shakespeare's world incite me, more than 
 anything beside, to quicken my footsteps forward into the actual 
 world, to mingle in the flood of destinies that is suspended over it ;■ 
 and at length if I shall prosper, to draw a few cups from the great ' 
 ocean of true na,ture, and to distribute them from off the stage among 
 the thirsting people of my native land." 
 
 " I feel delighted with the temper of mind in which I now behold
 
 146 MEISTEB 'S A PPRENTICE8HIP. 
 
 you,'' answered Jarno, laying bis liand upon the shoulder of the ex- 
 cited youth ; " renounce not the purpose of embarking in active life. 
 Make baste to employ with alacrity the years that are granted you. If 
 I can serve you, I will with all my heart. As yet, I have not asked 
 you how you came into this troup, for which you certainly were 
 neither born nor bred. So much I hope and see : you long to be out 
 of it. I know nothing of your parentage, of your domestic circum- 
 stances ! consider what you shall confide to me. Thus much only I 
 can say ; the times of war we live in may produce quick turns of for- 
 tune ; did you incline devoting your strength and talents to our 
 service, not fearing labor, and if need were, danger, I might even now 
 have an opjiortunity to put you in a situation, which you would not 
 afterwards be sorry to have filled for a time." Wilhelm could not 
 sufficiently express his gratitude ; he was ready to impart to his friend 
 and patron the whole history of his life. 
 
 In the course of this conversation, they had wandered far into the 
 park, and at last came upon the highway that crossed it. Jarno stood 
 silent for a moment, and then said : "Deliberate on my proposal, 
 determine, give me your answer in a few days, and then let me have 
 the narrative you mean to trust me with. I assure you, it has all 
 along to me seemed quite incomprehensible, how you ever could have 
 anything to do with such a class of people. I have often thought 
 with vexation and spleen, how, in order to gain a paltry living, you 
 must fix your heart on a wandering ballad-monger, and a silly mon- 
 grel, neither male nor female." 
 
 He had not yet concluded, when an officer on horseback came hastily 
 along : a groom following him with a led horse. Jarno shouted a 
 warm salutation to him. The ofiicer sprang from his horse ; Jarno 
 and he embraced, and talked together : while Wilhelm, confounded 
 at the last expressions of his warlike friend, stood thoughtfully at a 
 side. Jarno turned over some paper which the stranger had delivered 
 to him ; while the latter came to Wilhelm ; held out his hand, and 
 .said Avith emphasia ; "I find you in worthy company ; follow the 
 counsel of your friend ; and by doing so, accomplish likewise the de- 
 sire of an unknown man, who takes a genuine interest in you." So 
 saying, he embraced Wilhelm and jaressed him cordially to his breast. 
 At the same instant, Jarno advanced, and said to the stranger : " It is 
 best that I ride on with you : by this means you may get the necessary 
 orders, and set out again before night." Both then leaped into their 
 saddles, and left our astonished friend to his own reflections. 
 
 Jarno's last words were .still ringing in his ears. It galled him 
 to see the two human beings, that had most innocently won his 
 affections, so grievously disparaged by a man whom he honored so 
 much. The strange embracing of tlie officer, whom he knew not, 
 made but a slight impression on him ; it occupied his curiosity and his 
 imagination for the moment : but Jarno's speech had cut him to the 
 heart ; he was deeply hurt by it ; and now, in his way homewards, he
 
 BOOK III. CHAPTER XT. 147 
 
 broke out into reproaches against himself, that he should for a single 
 instant have mistaken or forgotten the unfeeling coldness of Jaruo, 
 which looked out from his very eyes, and spoke in all his gestures. 
 " No I " exclaimed he, " thou conceivest, dead-hearted worldJBng, that 
 thou canst be a friend '? All that thou hast power to offer me is not 
 worth the sentiment which binds me to these forlorn beings. How 
 fortunate, that I have discovered in time what I had to expect from 
 thee ! " 
 
 Mignon came to meet him as he entered ; he clasped her in his 
 arms, exclaiming : " Nothing, nothing shall part us, thou good little 
 creature ! The seeming prudence of the world shall never cause me 
 to forsake thee, or forget what I owe thee." 
 
 The child, whose warm caresses he had been accustomed to avoid, 
 rejoiced with all her heart at this unlooked-for show of tenderness, 
 and clung so fast to him, that he had some difficulty to get loose 
 from her. 
 
 From this period, he kept a stricter eye on Jarno's conduct : many 
 parts of it he did not think quite praiseworthy ; nay several things 
 came out, which totally displeased him. He had strong suspicions, 
 *for example, that the verses on the baron, which the poor pedant had 
 so dearly paid for, were composed by Jaruo. And as the latter, in 
 Wilhelm's presence, had made sport of the adventure, our friend 
 thought here was certainly a symptom of a most corrupted heart ; for 
 what could be more depraved than to treat a guiltless person, whose 
 griefs one's self had occasioned, with jeering and mockery, instead of 
 trying to satisfy or to indemnify him? In this matter, Wilhelm 
 would himself willingly have brought about reparation ; and ere long 
 a very curious accident led him to obtain some traces of the persons 
 concerned in that nocturnal outrage. 
 
 Hitherto his friends had contrived to keep him unacquainted with 
 the fact, that some of the^-oung officers were in the habit of passing 
 whole nights, in merriment and jollity, with certain actors and 
 actresses, in the lower hall of the old castle. One morning, having 
 risen early according to his custom, he happened to visit this cham- 
 ber, and found the gallant gentlemen just in the act of performing 
 rather a singular operation. They had mixed a bowl of water with 
 a quantity of chalk, and were plastering this gruel with a brush upon 
 their waistcoats and pantaloons, without stripping ; thus very expe- 
 ditiously restoring the spotlessness of their apparel. On witnessing 
 this piece of ingenuity, our friend was at once stinick with the recol- 
 lection of the poor pedant's whited and bedusted coat : his suspicions 
 gathered strength, when he learned that some relations of the baron's 
 were among the party. 
 
 To throw some light on his doubts, he engaged the youths to break- 
 fast with him. They were very lively, and told a multitude of 
 jjleasaut stories. One of them especially, who for a time had been 
 on the recruiting service, was loud in praising the craft and activity
 
 149 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 of his captain ; who, it appeared, understood the art of alluring tfielV 
 of all kinds towards him, and overreaching every one by the decej)- 
 tion proper for him. He circumstantially described, how several 
 young people of good families and careful education had been cozened, 
 by playing oflf to them a thousand promises of honor and preferment ; 
 and he heartily laughed at the simpletons, who felt so gratified, when 
 first enlisted, at the thought of being esteemed and introduced to 
 notice by so reputable, prudent, bold and munificent an officer. 
 
 Wilhelm blessed his better genius for having drawn him back in 
 time from the abyss, to whose brink he had approached so near. Jarno 
 he now looked upon as nothing better than a crimp ; the embrace of 
 the stranger officer was easily explained. He viewed the feelings and 
 opinions of these men with contempt and disgust : from that moment 
 he carefully avoided coming into contact with any one that wore a 
 uniform ; and when he heard that the army was about to move its 
 quarters, the news would have been extremely welcome to him, if he 
 had not feared that immediately on its departure, he himself must be 
 banished from the neighborhood of his lovely friend, perhaps forever. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Meanwhile the baroness had spent several days disquieted by 
 anxious fears and unsatisfied curiosity. Since the late adventure, the 
 count's demeanor had been altogether an enigma to her. His manner 
 was changed ; none of his customary jokes were to be heard. His 
 demands on the company and the servants had very much abated. 
 Little pedantry or imperiousness was now to be discerned in him ; he 
 was silent and thoughtful ; yet withal he seemed composed and placid ; 
 in short, he was quite another man. In choosing the books which 
 now and then he caused to be read to him, those of a serious, often a 
 religious cast were pitched upon ; and the baroness lived in perpetual 
 fright lest, beneath this apparent serenity, a secret rancor might be 
 lurking ; a silent purpose to revenge the offense he had so accident- 
 ally discovered. She determined, therefore, to make Jarno her confi- 
 dant ; and this the more freely, as that gentleman and she already 
 stood in a relation to each other, where it is not usual to be very 
 cautious in keeping secrets. For some time Jarno had been her 
 dearest friend ; yet tl>ey had been dexterous enough to conceal their 
 attachment and joys from the noisy world in which they moved. To 
 the countess alone this new romance had not remained unknown ; and 
 very possibly the l)aroness might wish to get her fair friend occupied 
 with some similar engagement, and thus to escape the silent reproaches 
 she had often to endure froni that noble-minded woman. 
 
 Scarcely had the baroness related the occurrence to her lover, when
 
 BOOK III. CHAPTER XII. 14^ 
 
 he cried out, laughing : " To a certainty tlie old fool believes that he 
 has seen his ghost ! He dreads that the vision may betoken some 
 misfortune, perhaps death to him ; and so he is become quite tame, as 
 all half-men do, in thinking of that consummation which no one has 
 escaped, or will escape. Softly a little ! As I hope he will live long 
 enough, we may now train him at least, so that he shall not again 
 give disturbance to his wife and household." 
 
 . They accordingly, as soon as any opportunity occurred, began talk- 
 ing, in the presence of the count, about warnings, visions, appari- 
 tions, and the like. Jarno played the skeptic, the baroness likewise ; 
 and they carried it so far, that his lordship at last took Jarno aside, 
 reproved him for his free-thinking, and produced his own experience 
 to prove the possibility, nay actual occurrence, of such preternatural 
 events. Jarno affected to be struck ; to be in doubt ; and finally to be 
 convinced ; but in private with his fi'iend, he made himself so much 
 the merrier at the credulous weakling, who had thus been cured of 
 his evil habits by a bugbear, but who, they admitted, still deserved 
 some praise for expecting dire calamity, or death itself, with such 
 composure. 
 
 " The natural result, which the present apparition might have had, 
 would possibly have ruffled him ! " exclaimed the baroness, with her 
 wonted vivacity ; to which, when anxiety was taken from her heart, 
 she instantly returned. Jarno was richly rewarded ; and the two 
 contrived fresh projects for frightening the count still farther ; and 
 still farther exciting and confirming the affection of the countess for 
 Wilhelm. 
 
 With this intention, the whole story was related to the countess. 
 She, indeed, expressed her displeasure at such conduct ; but from 
 that time she became more thoughtful, and in peaceful moments 
 seemed to be considering, pursuing and painting out that scene which 
 had been prepared for her. 
 
 The preparations, now going forward on every side, left no room 
 for doubt that the annies were soon to move in advance, and the 
 prince at the same time to change his headquarters. It was even 
 said that the count intended leaving his castle, and returning to the 
 city. Our players could, therefore, without difficulty, calculate the 
 aspect of their stars ; yet none of them, except Melina, took any 
 measures in consequence : the rest strove only to catch as much enjoy- 
 ment as they could from the moment that was passing over them. 
 
 Wilhelm, in the meantime, was engaged with a peculiar task. The 
 countess had required from him a copy of his writings, and he looked 
 on this request as the noblest recompense for his labors. 
 
 A young author, who has not yet seen himself in print, will, in such 
 a case, apply no ordinary care to provide a clear and beautiful tran- 
 script of his works. It is like the golden age of authorship ; he feels 
 transported into those centuries when the press had not inundated the 
 world with so many useless writings, when none but excellent per-
 
 156 MEIBTEB'S APPBENTIGEBHIP. 
 
 formances were copied and kept by the noblest men ; and be easily 
 admits tbe illusion, that bis own accurately ruled and measured manu- 
 script may itself prove an excellent performance, worthy to be kept 
 and valued by some future critic. 
 
 The prince being shortly to depart, a great entertainment had been 
 appointed in honor of him. Many ladies of the neighborhood were 
 invited ; and the countess had dressed herself betimes. On this 
 occasion, she had taken a costlier suit than usual. Her head-dress, 
 and the decorations of her hair, were more exquisite and studied ; she 
 wore all her jewels. The baroness, too, had done her utmost to appear 
 with becoming taste and splendor. 
 
 Philina, observing that both ladies, in expectation of their guests, 
 felt the time rather tedious, proposed to send for Wilhelm, who was 
 wishing to present his manuscript, now completed, and to read them 
 some other little pieces. He came, and on his entrance was astonished 
 at the form and the graces of the countess, which her decorations had 
 but made more visible and striliiug. Being ordered by the ladies, he 
 began to read ; but with so much absence of mind and so badly, that 
 had not his audience been excessively indulgent, they would very soon 
 have dismissed him. 
 
 Every time he looked at the countess, it seemed to him as if a spark 
 of electric fire were glancing before his eyes. In the end, he knew 
 not where to find the breath he wanted for his reading. The countess 
 had always pleased him ; but now it appeared as if he never had 
 beheld a being so perfect and so lovely. A thousand thoughts flitted 
 up and down his soul ; what follows might be nearly their substance. 
 I " How foolish is it in so many poets, and men of sentiment, as they 
 are called, to make war on pomp and decoration; requiring that 
 I women of all ranks should wear no dress but what is simple and 
 conformable to nature ! They rail at decoration, without once con- 
 sidering that when we see a plain or positively ugly person clothed in 
 a costly and gorgeous fashion, it is not the poor decoration that dis- 
 . pleases us. I would assemble all the judges in the world, and ask 
 / them here if they wished to see one of these folds, of these ribbons 
 and laces, these braids, ringlets, and glancing stones removed? 
 Would they not dread disturbing the delightful impression that so 
 naturally and spontaneously meets us here ? Yes, naturally, I will 
 say I As Minerva sprang in complete armor from the head of Jove, 
 so does this goddess seem to have stepped forth with a light foot, in 
 all her ornaments, from the bosom of some flower." 
 
 While reading, he turned his eyes upon her frequently, as if he 
 wished to stamp this image on his soul forever ; he more than once 
 read wrong, yet without falling into confusion of mind ; though, at 
 other times, he used to feel the mistaking of a word or a letter as a 
 painful deformity, which spoiled a whole recitation. 
 
 A false alarm of the arrival of the guests put an end to the reading ; 
 the baroness went out ; and the countess, while about to shut lier
 
 BOOK in. CHAPTER XIL 151 
 
 writing-desk, which was standing open, toolc up her casket, and put 
 some other rings upon her finger. " We are soon to part," said slie, 
 keeping her eyes upon the casket : ' ' accept a memorial of a true 
 friend, who wishes nothing more earnestly than that you may always 
 prosper." She then took out a ring, which, underneath a crystal, 
 bore a little plait of woven hair beautifully set with diamonds. She 
 held it out to Wilhelm, who, on taking it, knew neither what to say 
 nor do, but stood as if rooted to the ground. The countess shut her 
 desk, and sat down upon the sofa. 
 
 "And I must go empty?" said Philina, kneeling down at the 
 countess's right hand. " Do but look at the man ; he carries such a 
 store of words in his mouth, when no one wants to hear them ; and 
 now he cannot stammer out the poorest syllable of thanks. Quick, 
 sir ! Express your services by way of pantomime, at least ; and if 
 to-day you can invent nothing, then, for Heaven's sake, be my imi- 
 tator. " 
 
 Philina seized the right hand of the countess, and kissed it warmly. 
 Wilhelm sank upon his knee, laid hold of the left, and pressed it to 
 his lips. The countess seemed embarrassed, yet without displeasure. 
 
 "Ah!" cried Philina, "so much splendor of attire I may have 
 seen before ; but never one so fit to wear it. What bracelets, but 
 also what a hand ! What a necklace, but also what a bosom ! " 
 
 " Peace, little cozener ! " said the countess. 
 
 "Is this his lordship then?" said Philina, pointing to a rich medal- 
 ion, which the countess wore on her left side, by a particular chain. 
 
 "He is painted in his bridegroom dress," replied the countess. 
 
 " Was he then so young?" inquired Philina ; " I know it is but a 
 year or two since you were married." 
 
 "His youth must be placed to the artist's account," replied the 
 lady. 
 
 "He is a handsome man," observed Philina. "But was there 
 never," she continued, placing her hand on the countess's heart, 
 " never any other image that found its way in secret hither? " 
 
 "Thou art very bold, Philina ! " cried she ; " I have spoiled thee. 
 Let me never hear the like again." 
 
 "If you are angry, then am I unhappy," said Philina, springing 
 up, and hastening from the room. 
 
 Wilhelm still held that lovely hand in both of his. His eyes were 
 fixed on the bracelet-clasp ; he noticed, with extreme surprise, that 
 his initials were traced on it, in lines of brilliants. 
 
 "Have I then," he modestly inquired, "your own hair in this 
 precious ring?" 
 
 "Yes," replied she, in a faint voice ; then suddenly collecting her- 
 self, she said, and pressed his hand : " Arise, and fare you well ! " 
 
 " Here is my name," cried he, " by the most curious chance !" He 
 pointed to the bracelet-clasp. 
 
 " How? " cried the countess : " it is the cipher of a female friend ! "
 
 152 MEISTER'S APPBENTI0E8HIP. 
 
 " They are the initials of my name. Forget me not. Your image 
 is engraven on my heart, and will never be effaced. Farewell ! I 
 must be gone." 
 
 He kissed her hand, and meant to rise ; but as in dreams, some 
 strange thing fades and changes into something stranger, and the suc- 
 ceeding wonder takes us by surprise ; so, Avithout knowing how it 
 happened, he found the countess in his arms ; her lips were resting 
 upon his, and their warm mutual kisses were yielding them that 
 blessedness, which mortals sip from the topmost sparkling foam on 
 the freshly-poured cup of love. 
 
 Her head lay on his shoulder ; the disordered ringlets and ruffles 
 were forgotten. She had thrown her arm round him ; he clasped her 
 with vivacity ; and pressed her again and again to his breast. O that 
 such a moment could but last forever ! And woe to envious fate that 
 sliortened even this brief moment to our friends ! 
 
 How terrified was Wilhelm, how astounded did he start from his 
 happy dream, when the countess, with a shriek, on a sudden tore 
 herself away, and hastily pressed her hand against her heart. 
 
 He stood confounded before her ; she held the other hand upon her 
 eyes, and, after a moment's pause, exclaimed: "Away ! leave me ! 
 delay not ! " 
 
 He continued standing. 
 
 " Leave me ! " she cried ; and taking off her hand from her eyes, 
 she loolied at him with an indescribable expression of countenance ; 
 and added, in the most tender and affecting voice : ' ' Fly, if you 
 love me." 
 
 Wilhelm was out of the chamber, and again in his room, before he 
 knew what he was doing. 
 
 Unhappy creatures ! What singular warning of chance or of des- 
 tiny tore them asunder ?
 
 BOOK tV. CHAPTER I 153 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Laertes was standing at the window in a thouglitful mood, resting 
 on liis arm, and looking ont into tlie fields. Pliilina came gliding to- 
 wards him, across the large hall ; she leant upon him, and began to 
 mock him for his serious looks. 
 
 " Do not laugh," replied he ; "it is frightful to think how Time 
 goes on, how all things change and have an end. See here ! A little 
 while ago there was a stately camp : how pleasantly the tents looked ; 
 what restless life and motion was within them ; how carefully they 
 watched the whole inclosure ! And behold, it is all vanished in a 
 day ! For a short while, that trampled straw, those holes which the 
 cooks have dug, will show a trace of what was here ; and soon the 
 whole will be plowed and reaped as formerly, and the presence of 
 so many thousand gallant fellows in this quarter will but glimmer in 
 the memories of one or two old men." 
 
 Philina began to sing, and dragged forth her friend to dance with 
 her in the hall. " Since Time is not a person we can overtake when 
 he is past," cried she, " let us honor him with mirth and cheerfulness 
 of heart while he is passing." 
 
 They had scarcely made a step or two, when Frau Melina came 
 walking through the hall. Philina was Micked enough to invite her 
 to join them in the dance, and thus to bring her in mind of the shape 
 to which her pregnancy had reduced her. 
 
 " That I may never more see a woman in an interesting situation/ " 
 said Philina, when her back was turned. 
 
 ' ' Yet she feels an interest in it," said Laertes, 
 
 "But she manages so shockingly. Didst thou notice that wabbling 
 fold of her shortened petticoat, wliich always travels out before her 
 when she moves ? She has not the smallest knack or skill to trim 
 herself a little, and conceal her state." 
 
 "Let her be," said Laertes ; " time will soon come to her aid." 
 
 "It were prettier, however," cried Philina, "if we could shake 
 children from the trees." 
 
 The baron entered, and spoke some kind words to them, adding a 
 few presents, in the name of the count and the countess, who had left 
 the place very early in the morning. Ho then went to Wilhelm, who 
 was busy in the side chamber with Mignon. She had been extremely 
 affectionate and taking ; had asked minutely about Wilhelm's parents,
 
 154 MEI8T£JR'S APPBENTIGESHIP. 
 
 brothers, sisters and relations ; and so brought to his mind the duty 
 which he owed his people, to send them some tidings of himself. 
 
 With the farewell compliments of the family, the baron delivered 
 him an assurance from the count, that his lordship had been exceed- 
 ingly obliged by his acting, his poetical labors and his theatrical exer- 
 tions. For proof of this statement, the baron then drew forth a purse, 
 through whose beautiful texture the bright glance of new gold coin 
 was sparkling out. Wilhelm drew back, refusing to accept of it. 
 
 " Look upon this gift," said the baron, " as a compensation for your 
 time, as an acknowledgment of your trouble, not as the reward of your 
 talents. If genius procures us a good name and good will from men, 
 it is fair likewise that, by our diligence and efforts, we should earn 
 the means to satisfy our wants ; since, after all, we are not wholly 
 spirit. Had we been in town, wliere everything is to be got, we 
 should have changed this little sum into a watch, a ring or something 
 of that sort ; but as it is, I must place the magic rod in your own 
 hands ; procure a trinket with it, such as may please you best and be 
 of greatest use, and keep it for our sakes. At the same time, you 
 must not forget to hold the purse in honor. It was knit by the fin- 
 gers of our ladies ; they meant that the cover should give to its contents 
 the most pleasing form." 
 
 "Forgive my embarrassment," said Wilhelm, "and my doubts 
 about accepting this present. It as it were annihilates the little I 
 have done, and hinders the free play of happy recollection. Money is 
 a fine thing, when any matter is to be completely settled and abolished ; 
 I feel unwilling to be so entirely abolished from the recollection of 
 your house." 
 
 " That is not the case," replied the baron ; " but feeling so tenderly 
 yourself, you could not wish that the count should be obliged to con- 
 sider himself wholly your debtor ; especially when I assure you, that 
 his lordship's highest ambition has always consisted in being punc- 
 tual and just. He is not uninformed of the labor you have under- 
 gone, or of the zeal with which you have devoted all your time to 
 execute his views ; nay he is aware that, to quicken certain opera- 
 tions, you have even expended money of your own. With what face 
 shall I appear before him, then, if I cannot say that his acknowledg- 
 ment has given you satisfaction ?" 
 
 " If I thought only of myself," said Wilhelm ; " if I might follow 
 merely the dictates of my own feelings, I should certainly, in spite of 
 all these reasons, steadfastly refuse this gift, generous and honorable 
 as it is ; but I will not deny, that at the very moment when it brings 
 me into one perplexity, it frees me from another, into which I have 
 lately fallen with regard to my relations, and which has in secret 
 caused me much uneasiness. My nuxnagement, not only of the time, 
 but also of the money, for which I have to give account, has not been 
 the best ; and now, by the kindness of his lordship, I shall be en- 
 abled, with confidence, to give my people news of the good fortune
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER I. 155 
 
 to which this curious by-path has led me. I therefore sacrifice those 
 feelings of delicacy, which like a tender conscience admonish us on 
 such occasions, to a higher duty ; and, that I may appear courageously 
 before my father, I must consent to stand ashamed before you." 
 
 "It is singular," replied the baron, " to see what a world of hesita- 
 tion people feel about accepting money from their friends and 
 patrons, though ready to receive any other gift with joy and thankful- 
 ness. Human nature manifests some other such peculiarities, by 
 which many scruples of a similar kind are produced and carefully 
 cherished." 
 
 " Is it not the same with all points of honor ? " said our friend. 
 
 " It is so," replied the baron ; " and with several other prejudices. 
 We must not root them out, lest, in doing so, we tear up noble plants 
 along with them. Yet I am always glad when I meet with men, that 
 feel superior to such objections, when the case requires it ; and I 
 think with pleasure on the story of that ingenious poet, which I dare 
 say you have heard of. He had vn*itten several plays for the court 
 theater, which were honored by the warmest approbation of the 
 monarch. ' I must give him a distinguished recompense,' said the 
 generous prince ; ' ask him whether he would choose to have 
 some jewel given him ; or if he would disdain to accept a sum of 
 money.' In his humorous way the poet answered the inquiring 
 courtier : ' I am thankful, with all my heart, for these gracious pur- 
 poses ; and as the emperor is daily taking money from us, I see not 
 wherefore I should feel ashamed of taking some from him.' " 
 
 Scarcely had the baron left the room, when Wilhelm eagerly began' 
 to count the cash, which had come to him so unexpectedly, and, as he 
 thought, so undeservedly. It seemed as if the worth and dignity of. 
 gold, not usually felt till later years, had now, by anticipation, I 
 twinkled in his eye for the first time, as the fine glancing coins rolled! 
 out from the beautiful purse. He reclvoned up, and found that, par- 
 ticularly as Melina had engaged immediately to pay the loan, he had 
 now as much or more on the right side of his account, as on that day 
 when Philina first asked him for the nosegay. With a little secret 
 satisfaction, he looked upon his talents ; with a little pride, upon the 
 fortune which had led him and attended him. He now seized the pen, 
 with an assured mind, to write a letter, which might free his family 
 from their anxieties, and set his late proceedings in the most favor- 
 able light. He abstained from any special narrative ; and only by 
 significant and mysterious hints, left them room for guessing at what 
 had befallen him. The good condition of his cash-book, the advan- 
 tage he had earned by his talents, the favor of the great and of the 
 fair, acquaintance with a wider circle, the improvement of his bodily 
 and mental gifts, his hopes from the future, altogether formed such 
 a fair cloud-picture, that Fata Morgana itself could scarcely have 
 thrown together a stranger or a better. 
 
 In this happy exaltatioi^, the letter being folded up, he went on tq
 
 156 MEISTEB'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 maintain a conversation with himself, recapitulating what he had 
 been writing, and pointing out for himself an active and glorious 
 future. The example of so many gallant warriors had fired him ; 
 the poetry of Shakespeare opened a new world to him ; from the lips 
 of the beautiful countess he had inhaled an inexpressil)le inspiration. 
 All this could not and would not be without effect. 
 
 The stallmeister came to inquire whether they were ready with 
 their packing. Alas ! with the single exception of Melina, no one of 
 them had thought of it. Now, however, they were speedily to be in 
 motion. The count had engaged to have the whole party conveyed 
 forward a few days' journey on their way ; the horses now Avere in 
 readiness, and could not long be wanted. Wilhelm asked for his 
 trunk : Frau Melina had taken it to put her own things in. He asked 
 for money : Herr Melina had stowed it all far down at the bottom of 
 his box. Philina said she had still some room in hers ; she took Wil- 
 helm's clothes, and bade Mignon bring the rest. Wilhelm, not with- 
 out reluctance, was obliged to let it be so. 
 
 While they were loading, and getting all things ready, Melma said : 
 " I am sorry we should travel like mountebanks and rope-dancers ; I 
 could wish that Mignon would put on girl's clothes, and that the 
 harper would let his beard be shorn." Mignon clung firmly to Wil- 
 helm, and cried, with great vivacity: " I am a boy; 1 will be no girl !" 
 The old man held his peace ; and Philina, on this suggestion, made 
 some merry observations oh the singularity of their protector, the 
 count. " If the harper should cut off his beard," said she, " let him 
 sew it carefully upon a ribbon, and keep it by him, that he may put 
 it on again whenever his lordship, the count, falls in with him in any 
 quarter of the world. It was this beard alone that procured him the 
 favor of his lordship." 
 
 On being pressed to give an explanation of this singular speech, Phi- 
 lina said to them : " The count thinks it contributes very much to the 
 completeness of theatrical illusion, if the actor continues to play his 
 part, and to sustain his character, even in common life. It was for 
 this reason that he showed such favor to the pedant ; and he judged 
 it, in like manner, very fitting that the harper not only wore his false 
 beard at nights on the stage, but also constantly by day ; and he used 
 to be delighted at the natural appearance of the mask." 
 
 While the rest were laughing at this error, and the other strange 
 opinions of the count, tlie harper led our friend aside, took leave of 
 him, and begged with tears that he would even now let him go. AVil- 
 helm spoke to him, declaring that he would protect him against all 
 the world, that no one should touch a hair of his head, much less 
 send him off against his will. 
 
 The old man seemed affected deeply ; an unwonted fire was glow- 
 ing in his eyes. " It is not that," cried lie, " which drives me away. 
 I have long been reproaching myself in secret for staying with you. 
 I ouglit to linger nowhere ; for misfortune flies to overtake me, and
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER L 157 
 
 injures all that are connected with me. Dread everything, unless 
 you dismiss me : but ask me no questions ; I belong not to myself ; 1 
 cannot stay." 
 
 "To whom dost thou belong? Who can exert such a power on 
 thee ■>." 
 
 " Leave me my horrid secret, and let me go ! The vengeance \^iiKh 
 pursues me is not of the earthly judge. I belong to an inexorable 
 destiny ; I cannot stay, and I dare not." 
 
 " In the situation thou art now in, I certainly will not let thee go." 
 
 " It were high treason against you, my benefactor, if 1 should delay. 
 I am secure while with you, but you are in peril. You know not 
 whom you keep beside you. I am guilty, but more wretched than 
 guilty. My presence scares happiness away ; and good deeds grow 
 powerless, when I become concerned in them. Fugitive, unresting I 
 should be, that my evil genius might not seize me, which pursues 
 but at a distance, and only appears when I have found a place, and 
 am laying down my head to seek repose. More grateful I cannot 
 show myself, than by forsaking you." 
 
 " Strange man ! Thou canst neither take away the confidence I 
 place in thee, nor the hope I feel to see thee happy. I wish not to 
 penetrate the secrets of thy superstition.; but if thou livest in belief 
 of wonderful' forebodings and entanglements of fate, then, to cheer 
 and hearten thee, I say, unite thyself to my good fortune, and let us 
 see which genius is the stronger, thy dark or my bright one." 
 
 Wilhelm seized this opportunity of suggesting to him many other 
 comfortable things ; for of late our friend had begun to imagine that 
 this singular attendant of his must be a man who, by chance or des- 
 tiny, had been led into some AVeighty crime, the remembrance of 
 which he was ever bearing on his conscience. A few days ago, Wil- 
 helm, listening to his singing, had observed attentively the following 
 lines : 
 
 For him the light of rnddy mom 
 
 But paints the horizon red with flame ; 
 And voices, from the depths of nature bornCj 
 Woe I woe ! upon his guilty head proclaim. 
 
 But, let the old man urge what arguments he pleased, our friend 
 had constantly a stronger argument at hand. He turned everything 
 on its fairest side ; spoke so bravely, heartily and cheerily, that even 
 the old man seemed again to gather spirits, and to throw aside his 
 whims.
 
 im MEISTER 'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Melina was in hopes to get established with his company, in a 
 small but thriving town at some distance. They had already reached 
 the place where the count's horses were to turn ; and now they looked 
 about for other carriages and cattle to transport them onward. Melina 
 had engaged to provide them a conveyance ;*he showed himself but 
 niggardly, according to his custom. Wilhelm, on the contrary, had 
 the shining ducats of the count in his pocket, and thought he had 
 the fullest riglit to spend them merrily ; forgetting very soon how 
 ostentatiously he had produced them in the stately balance transmitted 
 to his father. 
 
 His friend Shakespeare, whom with the greatest joy he acknowl- 
 edged as his godfather, and rejoiced the more that his name was Wil- 
 helm, had introduced him to a prince, who frolicked for a time among 
 mean, nay vicious companions, and who, notwithstanding his noble- 
 ness of nature, found pleasure in the rudeness, indecency and coarse 
 intemperance of these altogether sensual knaves. This ideal likeness, 
 which he figured as the type and the excuse of his own actual con- 
 dition, was most welcome to our friend ; and the process of self- 
 deception, to which already he displayed an almost invincible tendency, 
 was thereby very mucli facilitated. 
 
 He now began to think about his dress. It struck him that a waist- 
 coat, over which, in case of need, one could throw a little short man- 
 tle, was a very fit thing for a traveler. Long knit pantaloons, and a 
 pair of lacing boots, seemed the true garb of a pedestrian. He next 
 procured a fine silk sasli, which he tied about him, under the pretense 
 at first of securing warmth for liis person. On the oilier hand, he freed 
 his neck from the tyranny of stocks ; and got a few stripes of muslin 
 sewed upon his shirt ; making the pieces of considerable breadth, so 
 that they presented the complete appearance of an ancient ruff. The 
 beautiful silk handkerchief, the memorial of Mariana, wliich had 
 once been saved from burning, now lay slackly tied beneath this mus- 
 lin collar. A round hat, with a parti-colored band, and a large feather, 
 perfected the mask. 
 
 The women all asserted that this garb became him very well. 
 Philina in particular appeared enchanted with it. She solicited his 
 hair for herself ; beautiful locks, which, the closer to approach the 
 natural ideal, he had unmercifully clipped. By so doing, she recom- 
 mended herself not amiss to his favor ; and our friend, who, by his 
 open-handedness, had acquired the right of treating his companions 
 somewhat in Prince Harry's manner, ere long fell into tlie humor of 
 himself contriving a few wild tricks, and presiding in the execution 
 pf them. The people fenced, tlu^y danced, they devised all kinds of
 
 iBOOK IV. CHAPTER II. • 159 
 
 sports ; and iu their gayety of heart partook of what tolerable wine 
 they could fall iu with, iu copious proportious ; while, amid the dis- 
 order of this tumultuous life, Philiua lay iu wait for the coy hero ; 
 over whom let his better geuius keep watch ! 
 
 One chief diversion, which yielded the company a frequent and 
 very pleasing entertainment, consisted in producing an extempore 
 play, in which their late benefactors and patrons were mimicked and 
 turned into ridicule. Some of our actors had seized very neatly what- 
 ever was peculiar in the outward manner of several distinguished 
 people in the count's •establishment ; their imitation of these was 
 received by the rest of the party with the greatest approbation ; and 
 when Philiua produced, from the secret archives of her experience, 
 certain peculiar declarations of love that had been made to her, the 
 audience were like to die with laughing and malicious joy. 
 
 Wilhelm censured their ingratitude ; but they told him in reply, 
 that these gentry well deserved what they were getting, their general 
 conduct towards such deserving people as our friends believed them- 
 selves, not having been by any means the best imaginable. The little 
 consideration, the neglect they had experienced, were now described 
 with many aggravations. The jesting, bantering and mimicry pro- 
 ceeded as before ; our party were growing bitterer and more unjust 
 every minute. 
 
 "I wish," observed Wilhelm, " there was no envy or selfishness 
 lurking under what you say, but that you would regard those persons 
 and their station in the proper point of view. It is a peculiar tlung 
 to be placed, by one's very birth, in an elevated situation in society. 
 The man for whom inherited wealth has secured a perfect freedom 
 of existence ; who finds himself from his youth upwards abundantly 
 encompassed with all the secondary essentials, so to speak, of human 
 life, — will generally become accustomed to consider these qualiiioa- 
 tious as the first and greatest of all ; while the worth of that mode of 
 human life, which nature from her own stores equips and furnishes, 
 will strike him more faintly. The behavior of noblemen to their 
 inferiors, and likewise to each other, is regulated by external prefer- s^ 
 ences : they give each credit for his title, his rank, his clothes and A.{«^ 
 equipage, but his individual merits come not into play." 
 
 The speech was honored with the company's unbounded applause. 
 They declared it to be shameful, that men of merit should constantly 
 be pushed into the background ; and that in the great world, there 
 should not be a trace of jLatimal and hearty intercourse. On this 
 latter point particularly they overshot all bounds. 
 
 " Blame them not for it," said Wilhelm, " rather pity them ! They 
 have seldom an exalted feeling of that happiness which we admit to 
 be the highest that can flow from the inward abundance of nature. 
 Only to us poor creatures is it granted to enjoy the ha]ipiness of 
 friendship, in its richest fullness. Those dear to us we cannot elevate 
 by our countenance, or advance by our favor, or make happy by our
 
 160 MEISTER'S APPiiENflGESmP. 
 
 presents. We have nothing but ourselves. This whole self we must 
 give away ; and if it is to be of any value, we must make our friend 
 secure of it for ever. What an enjoyment, what a happiness, for 
 giver and receiver ! With what blessedness does truth of affection 
 invest our situation ! It gives to the transitory life of man a heavenly 
 certainty ; it forms the crown and capital of all that we possess." 
 
 While he spoke thus, Mignon had come near him ; she threw her 
 little arms round him, and stood with her cheek resting on his breast. 
 He laid, his hand on the child's head, and proceeded : " It is easy for 
 a great man to win our minds to him ; easy to make our hearts his 
 own. A mild and pleasant manner, a manner only not inhuman, will 
 of itself do wonders ; and how many means does he possess of holding 
 fast the affections he has once conquered ! To tis, all this occurs less 
 frequently, to us it is all more difficult ; and we naturally therefore 
 put a greater value on whatever, in the way of mutual kindness, we 
 acquire and accomplish. What touching examples of faithful ser- 
 vants giving themselves up to danger and death for their masters ! 
 How finely has Shakespeare painted out such things to us ! Fidelity, 
 in this case, is the effort of a noble soitI struggling to become equal 
 with one exalted above it. By steadfast attachment and love, the 
 servant is made equal to his lord, who but fortius is justified in look- 
 ing on him as a hired slave. Yes, these virtues belong to the lower 
 class of men alone ; that class cannot do without them, and with them 
 it has a beauty of its own. Whoever is enabled to requite all favors 
 easily, Avill likewise easily be tempted to raise himself above the 
 habit of acknowledgment. Nay, in this sense, I am of opinion, it 
 might almost be maintained, that a great man may possess friends, 
 but cannot be one." 
 
 Mignon pressed still closer towards him. 
 
 " It may be so," replied one of the party : " Ave do not need their 
 friendship, and do not ask it. But it were well if they understood a 
 little more about the arts which they affect to patronize. When we 
 played in the best style, there was none to mind us : it was all sheer 
 partiality. Any one they chose to favor pleased ; and they did not 
 choose to favor those that merited to please. It was intolerable to 
 observe how often silliness and mere stupidity attracted notice and 
 applause. " 
 
 " When I abate from this," said Wilhelm, " what seemed to spring 
 from irony and malice, I think we may nearly say, that one fares in 
 art as he does in love. And after all, how shall a fasliionable man 
 of the world, with his dissii)ated habits, attain that intimate presence 
 with a special object, which an artist must long continue in, if he 
 would produce anything approaching to perfection ? a state of feeling 
 without which it is impossible for any one to take such an interest, 
 as the artist hopes and wishes, in his work. 
 
 " Believe me, my friends, it is with talents as with virtue ; one must 
 love them for their own sake, or entirely renounce them. And neither
 
 ■BOOK IV. CHAPTER 11. 161 
 
 of them is acknowledged and rewarded, except when their possessor 
 can practice them unseen, like a dangerous secret." 
 
 ' ' Meanwhile, until some proper j udge discovers us, we may all die 
 of hunger," cried a fellow in the corner. / 
 
 "Not quite inevitably," answered Wilhelm. "I have observedj 
 that so long as one stirs and lives, one always finds food and raiment, 
 though they be not of the richest sort. And why should we repine ?j 
 Were we not, altogether unexpectedly, and when our prospects were 
 the very worst, taken kindly by the hand, and substantiall,y enter- 
 tained? And now, when we are in want of nothing, does it once 
 occur to us to attempt anything for our improvement ; or to strive, 
 though never so faintly, towards advancement in our art ? We are 
 busied about indifferent matters ; and, like school-boys, we are cast- 
 ing all aside that might bring our lesson to our thoughts. " 
 
 " In sad truth," said Philina, " it is even so ! Let us choose a play ; 
 we will go through it on the spot. Each of us must do his best, as 
 if he stood before the largest audience." 
 
 They did not long deliberate ; a play was fixed on. It was one of 
 those which at that time were nieeting great applause in (Termany, 
 and have now passed away. Some of the party whistled a symphony ; 
 each speedily bethought him of his part ; they commenced ; and 
 played all the piece with the greatest attention, and really well beyond 
 expectation. Mutual applauses circulated ; our friends had seldom 
 been so pleasantly diverted. 
 
 On finishing, they all felt exceedingly contented, partly on account 
 of their time being spent so well, partly because each of them experi- 
 enced some degree of satisfaction with his own performance. Wil- 
 helm expressed himself copiously in their praise ; the conversation 
 grew cheerful and merry. 
 
 "You would see," cried our friend, "what advances we should 
 make, if we continued this sort of training, and ceased to confine our 
 attention to mere learning by heart, rehearsing, and playing mechanic- 
 ally, as if it were a barren duty, or some handicraft employment. 
 How different a character do our musical professors merit ! What 
 interest they take in their art ; how correct are they in the practicings 
 they undertake in common ! What pains they are at in tuning their 
 instruments ; how exactly they observe time ; how delicately they 
 express the strength and the weakness of their tones ! No one there 
 thinks of gaining credit to himself by a loud accompaniment of the 
 solo of another. Each tries to play in the spirit of the composer, 
 each to express well whatever is committed to him, be it much or 
 little. 
 
 " Should not we too go as strictly and as ingeniously to work, see- 
 ing we practice an art far more delicate than that of music ; seeing 
 we are called on to express the commonest and the strangest emotions 
 of human nature, ^vitll elegance, and so as to delight ? Can anything 
 be more shocking than to slur over our rehearsal, and in our acting 
 Meister — 6
 
 103 MEISfER'S APPRENTICESmP. 
 
 to depend on good luck, or the capricious chance of the moment? 
 We ought to pla(;e our highest happiness and satisfaction in mutually 
 desiring to gain each other's approbation ; we should even value the 
 applauses of the puhlic, only in so far as we have previously sanc- 
 tioned them among ourselves. Why is the master of the band more 
 secure about his music than the numager about his play? Because, 
 in the orchestra, each individual would feel ashamed of his mistakes, 
 which offend the outward ear ; but how seldom have I found an actor 
 disposed to acknowledge or feel ashamed of mistakes, pardonable or 
 the contrary, by which the inward ear is so outrageously offended ! I 
 could wish, for my part, that our theater were as narrow as the wire 
 of a rope-dancer, that no inept fellow might dare to venture on it ; 
 instead of being, as it is, a place where every one discovers in himself 
 capacity enough to flourish and parade." 
 
 The company gave this apostrophe a kind reception ; each being 
 convinced that the censure conveyed in it could not apply to him, 
 after acting a little while ago so excellently with the rest. On the 
 other hand, it was agreed that during this journey, and for the future, 
 if they remained together, they would regularly proceed with their 
 training in the manner just adopted. Only it was thought, that as 
 this was a thing of good humor and free will, no formal manager 
 must be allowed to have a hand in it. Taking it for an established 
 fact, that among good men, the republican form of government is the 
 best, they declared that the post of manager should go round among 
 them ; he must be chosen by universal suffrage, and every time have 
 a sort of little senate joined in authority along with him. So de- 
 lighted did they feel with this idea, that they longed to put it instantly 
 in practice. 
 
 " I have no objection," said Melina, "if you incline making such 
 an experiment while we are traveling ; I shall willingly suspend my 
 own directorship until we reach some settled place. " He was in hopes 
 of saving cash by this arrangement, and of casting many small 
 expenses on the shoulders of the little senate or of the interim man- 
 ager. This fixed, they went very earnestly to counsel, how tlie form 
 of the new commonwealth might best be adjusted. 
 
 " 'Tis an itinerating kingdom," said Laertes; "we shall at least 
 have no quarrels about frontiers." 
 
 They directly proceeded to the business, and elected Wilhelm as 
 their first manager. The senate also was appointed, the women hav- 
 ing seat and vote in it ; laws were propounded, were rejected, were 
 agreed to. In such playing, the time passed on unnoticed ; and as 
 our friends had spent it pleasantly, they also conceived that they had 
 really been effecting something useful ; and by their new constitu- 
 tion had been opening a new prospect for the stage of their native 
 country.
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER III. 163 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 Seeing the company so favorably disposed, Wilhelm now hoped 
 he might farther have it in his power to converse with them on the 
 poetic merit of the pieces which might come before them. " It is 
 not enough," said he next day, wlien they were all again assembled, 
 " for the actor merely to glance over a dramatic work to judge of it 
 by his first impression, and thus, ^\^thout investigation, to declare his 
 satisfaction or dissatisfaction with it. Such things may be allowed in 
 a spectator, whose purpose it is rather to be entertained and moved 
 than formally to criticize. But the actor, on the other hand, should 
 be prepared to give a reason for his praise or censure ; and how shall 
 he do this, if he have not taught himself to penetrate the sense, the 
 views and feelings of his author ? A common error is, to form a 
 judgment of a drama from a single part in it ; and to look upon this 
 part itself in an isolated point of view, not in its connection with the 
 whole. I have noticed this, within a few days, so clearly in my own 
 conduct, that I will give you the account as an example, if you please 
 to hear me patiently. 
 
 "You all know Shakespeare's incomparable Hamlet; our public 
 reading of it at the castle yielded every one of us the greatest satis- 
 faction. On that occasion we proposed to act the piece ; and I, not 
 knowing what I undertook, engaged to play the prince's part. This 
 I conceived that 1 was studying, while I began to get by heart the 
 strongest passages, the soliloquies, and those scenes in which force of 
 soul, vehemence and elevation of feeling have the freest scope ; where 
 the agitated heart is allowed to display itself with touching expres- 
 siveness. 
 
 " I farther conceived that I was penetrating quite into the spirit of 
 the character, while 1 endeavored, as it were, to take upon myself the 
 load of deep melancholy under which my prototype was laboring, and 
 in this humor to pursue him through the strange labyrinths of his 
 caprices and his singularities. Thus learning, thus practicing, I 
 doubted not but I should by and by become one person with my hero. 
 
 " But the farther 1 advanced, the more difficult did it become for me 
 to form any image of the whole, in its general bearings ; till at last it 
 seemed as if impossible. I next went through the entire piece, with- 
 out interruption ; but here, too, I found much that I could not away 
 with. At one time the characters, at another time the manner of dis 
 playing them, seemed inconsistent ; and I almost despaired of finding 
 any general tint, in which I might present my whole part with all its 
 shadings and variations. In such devious paths I toiled and wandered 
 long in vain, till at length a hope arose that I might reach my aim in 
 quite a new way.
 
 164 MEISTER'S APPEENTICEHIUP. 
 
 " I set about investigating every trace of Hamlet's character, as it 
 had shown itself befon; his father's death ; I endeavored to distinguish 
 what in it was independent of this mournful event ; independent of 
 the terrible events that followed ; and what most probably the young 
 man would have been, had no such thing occurred. 
 
 " Soft, and from a noble stem, this royal flower had sprung up un- 
 der the immediate influences of majesty : the idea of moral rectitude 
 with that of princely elevation, the feeling of the good and dignified 
 with the consciousness of high birth, had in him been unfolded sim- 
 ultaneously. He was a prince, by birth a prince ; and he wished to 
 reign only that good men might be good without obstruction. Pleas- 
 ing in form, polished by nature, courteous from the heart, he was 
 meant to be the pattern of youth and the joy of the world. 
 
 " Without any prominent passion, his love for Ophelia was a still 
 presentiment of sweet wants. His zeal in knightly accomplishments 
 was not entirely his own ; it needed to be quickened and inflamed by 
 praise bestowed on others for excelling in them. Pure in sentiment, 
 he knew the honorable-minded, and could prize the rest which an up- 
 right spirit tastes on the bosom of a friend. To a certain degree, he 
 had learned to discern and value the good and the beautiful in arts 
 and sciences ; the mean, the vulgar was offensive to him ; and if 
 hatred could take root in his tender soul, it was only so far as to make 
 him properly despise the false and cliangeful insects of a court, and 
 play with them in easy scorn. He was calm in his temper, artless in 
 his conduct ; neither pleased with idleness, nor too violently eager 
 for employment. The routine of a university he seemed to continue 
 when at court. He possessed more mirth of humor than of heart ; 
 he was a good companion, pliant, courteous, discreet, and able to for- 
 get and forgive an injury ; yet never able to unite himself with those 
 who overstept the limits of the right, the good, and the becoming. 
 
 '• When we read the piece again, you shall judge whether I am j'et 
 on the proper track. 1 hope at least to bring forward passages that 
 sliali support my opinion in its main points." 
 
 This delineation was received with warm approval : the company 
 imagined they foresaw that Hamlet's manner of proceeding might 
 now be very satisfactorily explained ; they applauded this metliod of 
 penetrating into the spirit of a writer. Each of them proposed to 
 liimself to take up some piece, and study it on these principles, and 
 so unfold the author's meaning.
 
 BOOK JV. CHAPTER IV, 1(J5 
 
 CHAPTER IV, 
 
 Our friends liad to continue in the place for a day or two ; and it 
 was not long till sundry of them got engaged in adventures of u 
 rather pleasant kind. Laertes in particular was challenged by a 
 lady of the neighborhood, a person of some property ; but he received 
 her blandishments with extreme, nay unhandsome coldness ; and had 
 in consequence to undergo a multitude of jibes from Philina. She 
 took this opportunity of detailing to our friend the hapless love story 
 which had made the yoath so bitter a foe to womankind. "Who 
 can take it ill of him," she cried, " that he hates a sex which has 
 played him so foul, and given him to swallow, in one stoutly concen- 
 trated potion, all the miseries that man can fear from woman ? Do 
 but conceive it : within four-and-tweuty hours he was lover, bride- 
 groom, husband, cuckold, patient and widower ! I wot not how you 
 could use a man worse." 
 
 Laertes hastened from the room half- vexed, half-laughing ; and 
 Philina in her sprightliest style began to relate the story : how 
 Laertes, a young man of eighteen, on joining a company of actors, 
 found in it a girl of fourteen on the point of departing with her 
 father, who had quarreled with the manager. How, on the instant, 
 he had fallen mortally in love ; had conjured the father by all possi- 
 ble considerations to remain, promising at length to marry the young 
 woman. How, after a few pleasing hours of gnjomship, he had 
 accordingly been wedded, and been happy as he ought ; whereupon, 
 next day, while he was occupied at the rehearsal, his wife, according 
 to professional rule, had honored him with a pair of horns ; and how 
 as he, out of excessive tenderness, hastening home far too soon, had, 
 alas, found a former lover in his place, he had struck into the affair 
 with thoughtless indignation, had called out both father and lover, 
 and sustained a grievous wound in the duel. How father and daugh- 
 ter had thereupon set off by night, leaving him behind to labor with 
 a double hurt. How the leech he applied to was unliappily the worst 
 in nature ; and the poor fellow had got out of the adventure with 
 blackened teeth and watering eyes. That he was greatly to be pitied, 
 being otherwise the bravest young man on the face of the earth. 
 "Especially," said she, "it grieves me that the poor soul now hates 
 women ; for, hating women, how can one keep living ?" 
 
 Melina interrupted them with news, that all things being now ready 
 for the journey, they would set out to-morrow morning. He handed 
 them a plan, arranging how they were to travel. 
 
 " If any good friend take me on his lap," said Philina, " I shall be 
 content, though we sit crammed together never so close and sorrily : 
 'tis all one to me."
 
 166 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 " It does not signify," observed Laertes, who now entered. 
 
 " It is pitiful," said Wilhelm, hastening away. By the aid of 
 money he secured another very comfortable coach, though Melina had 
 pretended that there were no more. A new distribution then took 
 place ; and our friends were rejoicing in the thought that they should 
 now travel pleasantly, when intelligence arrived that a party of mili- 
 tary volunteers had been seen upon the road, from whom little good 
 could be expected. 
 
 In the town, these tidings were received with great attention, 
 though they were but variable and ambiguous. As the contending 
 armies were at that time placed, it seemed impossible that any hostile 
 corps could have advanced, or any friendly one hung arear, so far. 
 Yet every man was eager^to exhibit to our travelers the danger that 
 awaited them as truly dangerous ; every man was eager to suggest 
 that some other route might be adopted. 
 
 By these means, most of our friends had been seized with anxiety 
 and fear ; and when, according to the new republican constitution, 
 the whole members of the state had been called together to take 
 counsel on this extraordinary case, they were almost unanimously of 
 opinion that it would be proper either to keep back the mischief by 
 abiding where they were, or to evade it by choosing another road. 
 
 Wilhelm alone, not participating in the panic, regarded it as mean 
 to abandon, for the sake of mere rumors, a plan which they had not 
 entered on without nauch thought. He endeavored to put heart into 
 them ; his reasons were manly and convincing. 
 
 " It is but a rumor," he observed ; "and how many such arise in 
 time of war 1 Well-informed people say that the occurrence is exceed- 
 ingly improbable, nay almost impossible. Shall we, in so important 
 a matter, allow a vague report to determine our proceedings ? The 
 route pointed out to us by the count, and to which our passport was 
 adapted, is the shortest and in the best condition. It leads us to the 
 town, where you see acquaintances, friends before you, and may hope 
 for a good reception. The other way will also bring us thither ; but 
 by what a circuit, and along what miserable roads ? Have we any 
 right to hope, that, in this late season of the year, we shall get on at 
 all ; and what time and money shall we squander in the meanwhile ! " 
 He added many more considerations, presenting the matter on so many 
 advantageous sides, that their fear began to dissipate, and their cour- 
 age to increase. He talked to them so much about the discipline of 
 regular troops, he painted the marauders and wandering rabble so 
 contemptuously, and represented the danger itself as so pleasant and 
 inspiring, that the spirits of the party were altogether cheered. 
 
 Laertes from the first had been of his opinion ; he now declared 
 that he would not Minch or fail. Old Boisterous found a consenting 
 phrase or two to utter, in his own vein ; Philina laughed at them all ; 
 and Madam Melina, who, notwithstanding her advanced state of preg- 
 nancy, had lost nothing of her natural stout-heaxtedness, regarded
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER TV. 167 
 
 the proposal as heoric. Herr Melina, moved by this harmonious feel- 
 ing, hoping also to save somewhat by traveling the short road whicli 
 had been first contemplated, did not withstand the general consent ; 
 and the project was agreed to with universal alacrity. 
 
 They next began to make some preparations for defense at all haz- 
 ards. They bought large hangers, and slung them in well-quilted 
 straps over their shoulders. Wilhelm, farther, stuck a pair of pistols 
 in his girdle. Laertes, independently of this occurrence, had a good 
 gun. They all took the road in the highest glee. 
 
 On the second day of their journey, the drivers who knew the 
 country well, proposed to take their noon's rest in a certain woody 
 spot of the hills : since the town was far off, and in good weather 
 the hill road was generally preferred. 
 
 The day being beautiful, all easily agrged to the proposal. Wil- 
 helm on foot went on before them through the hills ; making every 
 one that met him stare with astonishment at his singular figure. He 
 hastened with quick and contented steps across the forest : Laertes 
 walked whistling after him : none but the women continued to be 
 dragged along in the carriages. Mignon too ran forward by his side, 
 proud of the hanger, which, when the party were all arming, she 
 would not go without. Around her hat she had bound the pearl 
 necklace, one of Mariana's relics, which ^Vilh^'Im still possessed. 
 Friedrich, the fair-haired boy, carried Laertes's gun. The harper had 
 the most pacific look ; his long cloak was tucked up within his girdle, 
 to let him walk more freely ; he leaned upon a knotty staff ; his harp 
 had been left behind hina in the carriage. 
 
 Immediately on reaching the sun-nnit of the height, a task not with- 
 out its difficulties, our party recognized the appointed spot, by the 
 fine beech-trees which encircled and screened it. A spacious green, 
 sloping softly in the middle of the forest, invited one to tarry ; a 
 trimly-bordered well offered tlie most grateful refreshment ; and on 
 the farther side, through chasms in the mountains, and over the tops 
 of the woods appeared a landscape distant, level}', full of hope. Ham- 
 lets and mills were lying in the bottoms villages upon the plain ; and 
 a new chain of mountains, visible in the distance, made the prospect 
 still more significant of hope, for they entered only like a soft limi- 
 tation. 
 
 The first comers took possession of the place ; rested a while in 
 shade, lighted a fire, and so awaited, singing as they worked, the 
 remainder of the party ; who by degrees arrived, and with one 
 accord saluted the place, tlie lovely weather, and the still lovelier 
 scene.
 
 168 MEISTER 'S APPEENTIGESHIP. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 If our friends had frequently enjoyed a good and merry hour 
 together while within four walls, they were naturally much gayer 
 here, where the freedom of the sky and the beauty of the place 
 seemed as it were to purify the feelings of every one. All felt nearer 
 to each other ; all wished that they might pass their whole lives in so 
 pleasant an abode. They envied hunters, charcoal-men and wood- 
 cutters ; ])eople whom their calling constantly retains in such happy 
 places ; but, above all, they prized the delicious economy of a band 
 of gipsies. They envied. these wonderful companions, entitled to 
 enjoy in blissful idleness all the adventurous charms of nature ; they 
 rejoiced at being in some degree like them. 
 
 Meanwhile the women had begun to boil potatoes ; and to unwrap 
 and get ready the victuals brought along with them. Some pots were 
 standing by the fire. The party had placed themselves in groups, 
 under the trees and bushes. Their singular apparel, their various 
 weapons, gave them a foreign aspect. The horses were eating their 
 provonder at a side. Could one have concealed the coaches, the look 
 of this little horde would have been romantic, even to complete 
 illusion. 
 
 Wilhelm enjoyed a pleasure he had never felt before. He could 
 now imagine his present company to be a wandering colony, and him- 
 self the leader of it. In this character he talked with those arouud 
 him, and figured out the fantasy of the jnoment as poetically as he 
 could. The feelings of the party rose in clieerfuluess : they ate and 
 drank and made merry ; and repeatedly declared, that they had never 
 passed more pleasant moments. 
 
 Their contentment had not long gone on increasing, till activity 
 awoke among the younger part of them. Wilhelm and Laertes 
 seized their rapiers, and began to practice, on this occasion with 
 theatrical intentions. They undertook to represent the duel, in which 
 Hamlet and his adversary find so tragical an end. Both were per- 
 suaded that, in this powerful scene, it was not enough merely to keep 
 pushing awkwardly hither and thither, as it is generally exhibited in 
 theaters ; they were in hopes to shoM', by example, how, in present- 
 ing it, a worthy spectacle might also be afforded to the critic in the 
 art of fencing. The rest made a circle round them. Both fought 
 with skill and ardor. The interest of the spectators rose higher every 
 pass. 
 
 But all at once, in the nearest bush, a shot went oflE ; and immedi- 
 ately another ; and tlie party flew asunder in terror. Next moment, 
 armed men were to be seen pressing forward to the sjwt where the 
 horses were eating their fodder, not far from the ("oaches tliat were 
 packed with luggage.
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER V. 169 
 
 A universal scream proceeded from the females ; our heroes threw 
 away their rapiers, seized their pistols, and ran towards the robbers ; 
 demanding, with violent threats, the meaning of such conduct. 
 
 This question being answered laconically, with a couple of musket- 
 shots, Wilhelm fired liis pistol at a crisp-headed knave, who had got 
 upon the top of the coach, and was cutting the cords of the package. 
 Eightly hit, this artist instantly came tumbling down : Laertes also 
 had not missed. Both of them, encouraged by success, drew their 
 side-arms ; when a number of the plundering party rushed out upon 
 them, with curses and loud bellowing ; fired a few shots at them, 
 and fronted tlieir impetuosity with glittering sabers. Our young- 
 heroes made a bold resistance. They called upon their other com- 
 rades, and endeavoi'ed to excite them to a general resistance. But 
 ere long, Wilhelm lost the sight of day, and the consciousness of what 
 ■was passing. Stupefied by a shot that wounded him between the 
 breast and the left arm, by a stroke that split his hat in two, and 
 almost penetrated to his brain, he sank down, and only by the narra- 
 tives of others came afterwards to understand the luckless end of 
 this adventure. 
 
 On again opening his eyes, he found himself in the strangest pos- 
 ture. The first thing that pierced the dimness, which yet swam before 
 his vision, was Philina's face bent down over his. He felt himself 
 weak ; and making a movement to rise, he discovered that he was in 
 Philina's lai> ; into which, indeed, he again sank down. She was 
 sitting on the sward. She had softly pressed towards her the head 
 of the fallen young man ; and made for him an easy couch, as far as 
 in her power. Mignon was kneeling with disheveled and bloody 
 hair at his feet, which she embraced with many tears. 
 
 On noticing his bloody clothes, Wilhelm asked, in a broken voice, 
 where he was, and what had happened to him.self and the rest. 
 Philina begged him to be quiet : the others, she said, were all in 
 safety, and none but he and Laertes wounded. Farther, she would 
 tell him nothing ; but earnestly entreated him to keep still, as his 
 wounds had been but slightly and hastily bound. He stretched out 
 his hand to Mignon, and inquired about the bloody locks of the child, 
 who he supposed was also wounded. 
 
 For the sake of (quietness, Philina let him know that this true- 
 hearted creature, seeing her friend wounded, and in the hurry of the 
 instant being able to think of nothing which would stanch the blood, 
 had taken her own hair that was flowing round her head, and tried to 
 stop the wounds with it ; but had soon been obliged to give up the 
 vain attempt : that afterwards they had bound him with moss and 
 dry mush-rooms, Philina herself giving up her neckerchief for that 
 purpose. 
 
 Wilhelm noticed that Philina was sitting with her back against her 
 own trunk, which still loolvedfirmh' locked and quite uninjured. He 
 inquired if the rest also had been so lucky as to save their goods 'i
 
 170 MEISTEE\S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 She answered \%'ith a shrug of the shoulders, and a look over the 
 green, where broken chests, and coffers beaten into fragments, and 
 knapsacks ripped up, and a multitude of little wares, lay scattered all 
 round. No person now was to be seen upon the place : this strange 
 group formed the only living object in the solitude. 
 
 Inquiring farther, our friend learned more and more particulars. 
 The rest of the men, it appeared, who at all events might still have 
 made resistance, ^vere struck with terror, and soon overpowered. 
 Some fled, some looked with horror at the accident. The drivers, for 
 the sake of their cattle, had held out more obstinately ; but they too 
 were at last thrown down and tied ; after which, in a few minutes, 
 everything was thoroughly ransacked, and the booty carried off. The 
 hapless travelers, their fear of death being over, had begun to mourn 
 their loss ; and hastened with the greatest speed to the neighboring 
 village, taking with them Laertes, whose wounds were slight, and 
 carrying off but a very few fragments of their property. The harper 
 having placed his damaged instrument against a tree, had proceeded 
 in their company to the place ; to seek a surgeon, and return with his 
 utmost rapidity to help his benefactor, whom he had left apparently 
 upon the brink of death. 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 Meanwhile our three adventurers continued yet a space in their 
 strange position, no one returning to their aid. Evening was advanc- 
 ing ; the darkness threatened to come on. Philina's indifference was 
 changing to anxiety ; Mignon ran to and fro, her impatience increas- 
 ing every moment ; and at last, when their prayer was granted, and 
 human creatures did approach, a new alarm fell upon them. They 
 distinctly heard a troop of horses coming iip the road, which they had 
 lately traveled ; they dreaded lest, a second time, some company of 
 unbidden guests might be purposing to visit this scene of battle, and 
 gather up the gleanings. 
 
 The more agreeable was their surprise, when, after a few moments, 
 a young lady issued from the thickets, riding on a gray courser, and 
 accompanied by an elderly gentleman and some cavaliers. Grooms, 
 servants, and a troop of hussars closed up the rear. 
 
 Philina stared at this phenomenon, and was about to call, and 
 entreat the fair Amazon for help, when the latter, turning her aston- 
 ished eyes on the group, instantly checked her horse, rode uji to them, 
 and halted. She inquired eagerly about the wounded man, whose 
 posture in the lap of this light-minded Samaritan seemed to strike her 
 as peculiarly strange. 
 
 "Is it your husband?" she inquired of Philina. " Only a good 
 friend," replied the other, -with a tone that Wilhekn liked extremely
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER VI. 171 
 
 ill. He had fixed his eyes upon the soft, elevated, calm, sympathiz- 
 ing features of the stranger ; he thought he had never seen aught 
 nobler or more lovely. Her shape he could not see : it was hid by a 
 man's white great-coat, which she seemed to have borrowed from some 
 of her attendants, to screen her from the chill evening air. 
 
 By this, the horsemen had also come near. Some of them dis- 
 mounted ; the lady did so likewise. She asked, with humane sym- 
 pathy, concerning every circumstance of the mishap which had 
 befallen the travelers ; but especially concerning the wounds of the 
 poor youth who lay before her. Thereupon she turned quickly round, 
 and went aside with the old gentleman to some carriages which were 
 slowly coming up the hill, and which at length stopped upon the scene 
 of action. 
 
 The young lady having stood with her conductor a short time at the 
 door of one of the coaches, and talked with the people in it, a man of 
 a squat figure stepped out, and came along with them to our wounded 
 hero. By the little box which he held in his hand, and the leathern 
 pouch with instruments in it, you soon recognized him for a surgeon. 
 His manners were rude rather than attractive ; but his hand was 
 light and his help was welcome. 
 
 Having examined strictly, he declared that none of the wounds were 
 dangerous. He would dress them, he said, on the spot, after which 
 the patient might be carried to the nearest village. 
 
 The anxious attentions of the young lady seemed to avigment. " Do 
 but look," she said, after going to and fro once or tMaee, and again 
 bringing the old gentleman to the place ; " look how they have treated 
 him ? And is it not on our account that he is suffering ? " Wilhelm 
 heard these words, but did not understand them. She went restlessly 
 up and down : it seemed as if she could not tear herself away from 
 the presence of the wounded man, while at the same time she feared 
 to violate decorum by remaining, when they had begun, though not 
 without difficulty, to remove some part of his apparel. The surgeon 
 was just cutting off the left sleeve of his patient's coat, when the old 
 gentleman came near, and represented to the lady, in a serious tone, 
 the necessity of proceeding on their journey. Wilhelm kept his eyes 
 bent on her ; and was so enchanted with her looks, that he scarcely 
 felt what h& was suffering or doing. 
 
 Philina, in the meantime, had risen up to kiss the hand of this kind 
 young lady. While they stood beside each other, \^'ilhelm thought 
 he had never seen such a contrast. Philina had never till now 
 appeared in so unfavorable a light. She had no right, as it seemed 
 to him, to come near that noble creature, still less to touch her. 
 
 The lady asked Philina various things, but in an undertone. At 
 length she turned to the old gentleman and said, "Dear uncle, may I 
 be generous at your expense ? " She took off the great-coat, with the 
 visible intention to give it to the stripped and wounded youth. 
 
 Wilhelm, whom the healing look of her eyes had hitherto held
 
 17^ MEISTER'S APPRENTICE8BIP. 
 
 fixed, was now, as the siirtont fell away, astonished at her lovely 
 figure. She came near, and softly laid the coat above him. At this 
 moment, as he tried to open his mouth and stammer out some words 
 of gratitude, the lively imjiression of her presence worked so strongly 
 on his senses, already caught and bewildered, that all at once it 
 appeared to him as if her head were encircled with rays ; and a glanc- 
 ing light seemed by degrees to spread itself over all her form At this 
 moment the surgeon, making preparations to extract the ball from his 
 wound, gave him a sharper twinge : the angel faded away from the 
 eyes of the fainting patient ; he lost all consciousness ; and on return- 
 ing to himself, the horsemen and coaches^ the fair one with her 
 attendants, had vanished like a dream. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Wilhelm's wounds once dressed, and his clothes put on, the sur- 
 geon hastened off; just as the harper with a number of peasants 
 arrived. Out of some cut boughs, which they speedily wattled with 
 twigs, a kind of litter was constructed ; upon which they placed the 
 wounded youth, and under the conduct of a mounted huntsman, 
 whom the noble company had left behind them, carried him softly 
 down the mountain. The harper, silent and shrouded in his own 
 thoughts, bore with him his broken instrument. Some men brought 
 on Philina's box, herself following with a bundle. Mignon skipped 
 along through copse and thicket, now before the party, now beside 
 them, and looked up with longing eyes at her hurt protector. 
 
 He, meanwhile, wrapped in his warm surtout, was lying peacefully 
 upon the litter. An electric warmth seemed to flow from the fine 
 wool into his body : in short, he felt himself in the most delightful 
 frame of mind. The lovely being, whom this garment lately covered, 
 had affected him to the very heart. He still saw the coat falling 
 down from her shoulders ; saw that noble form, begirt A\ith radiance, 
 stand beside him ; and his soul hied over rocks and forests on the 
 footsteps of his vanished benefactress. 
 
 It was nightfall when the party reached the village, and halted at 
 the door of the inn where the rest of the company, in the gloom of 
 despondency, were bewailing their irreparrflile loss. The one little 
 chamber of the house Avas crammed with people. Some of them 
 were lying upon straw ; some were occupying benches ; some had 
 squeezed themselves behind the stove. Fran Melina, in a neighbor- 
 ing room, was painfully expecting her delivery. Fright had accel- 
 erated this event. With the sole assistance of the landlady, a young 
 inexperienced woman, nothing good could be expected. 
 
 As the party just arrived required admission, there arose a xiuiversal
 
 nOOK IV. CHAPTER VIlI. VIZ 
 
 lUlirmur. AH now maintained, that by Willielm's advice alone, and 
 undei his especial guidance, they had entered on this dangerous road, 
 and exposed themselves to such misfortunes. They threw the blame 
 of the disaster wholly on him ; they stuck themselves in the door to 
 oppose his entrance, declaring that he must go elsewhere and seek 
 quarters. Philina they received with still greater indignation : nor 
 did Mignon and the harper escape their share. 
 
 The huntsman, to whom the care of the forsaken party had been 
 earnestly and strictly recommended by his beautiful mistress, soon 
 grew tired of this discussion : he rushed upon the company with oatlis 
 and menaces ; commanding them to fall to the right and left, and 
 make way for tliis new arrival. They now began to pacify them- 
 selves. He made a place for Wilhelm on a table, which he shoved 
 into a corner ; PhJlina had her box put there, and then sat down upon 
 it. All packed themselves as they best could ; and the huntsman 
 went away to see if he could not find for " the young couple" a more 
 convenient lodging. 
 
 Scarcely was he gone, when spite again grew noisy, and one 
 reproach began to follow close upon another. Each described and 
 magnified his loss ; censuring the foolhardiness they had so keenly 
 smarted for. They did not even hide the malicious satisfaction they 
 felt at Wilhelm's wounds : they jeered Philina, and imputed to her 
 as a crime the means by which she had saved her trunk. From a 
 multitude of jibes and bitter inuendoes you were required to conclude, 
 that during the plundering and discomfiture she had endeavored to 
 work herself into favor with the captain of the band, and had per- 
 suaded him. Heaven knew by what arts and complaisance, to give 
 her back the chest unhurt. To all this she answered nothing ; only 
 clanked with the large padlocks of her box, to impress her ceusurers 
 completely with its presence, and by her own good fortune to aug- 
 ment their desperation. 
 
 CHAPTER Vni. 
 
 Though our-friend was weak from loss of blood, and though ever 
 since the appearance of that helpful angel his feelings had been soft 
 and mild, yet at last he could not help getting vexed at the harsh and 
 unjust speeches which, as he continued silent, the discontented com- 
 pany went on uttering against him. Feeling himself strong enough 
 to sit up, and expostulate on the annoyance they were causing to their 
 friend and leader, he raised his bandaged head, and propping himself 
 with some difficulty, and leaning against the wall, he began to speak 
 as follows : 
 
 "Considering the pain which your losses occasion, I forgive you 
 for assailing me with injuries at a moment when you should condole
 
 1 74 MEISTER '8 A PPREIfTTC'ESHIP. 
 
 with me ; for opposing me and casting me from you, the first time I 
 have needed to look to you for help. The services 1 did you, the 
 complaisance I showed you, I regarded as sufficiently repaid by your 
 thanks, by your friendly conduct : do not warp my thoughts, do not 
 force my heart to go back and calculate what I have done for you ; 
 the calculation would be painful to me. C'hance brought me near 
 you, circumstances and a secret inclination kept me with you. I par- 
 ticipated in your labors and your pleasures : my slender abilities were 
 ever at your service. If you now blame me with bitterness for the 
 mishap that has befallen us, you do not recollect that the first project 
 of taking this road came to us from stranger people, was tried by all 
 of you, and sanctioned by every one as well as me. 
 
 " Had our journey ended happily, each would have taken credit to 
 himself for the happy thought of suggesting this plan and preferring 
 it to others ; each would joyfully have put lis in mind of our delibera- 
 tions and the vote he gave : but now you make me alone responsible ; 
 you force a piece of blame upon me, which I wpuld willingly submit 
 to, if my conscience with a clear voice did not pronounce me innocent, 
 nay if I might not appeal with safety even to yourselves. If you 
 have aught to say against me, bring it forward in order, and I shall 
 defend myself ; if you have nothing reasonable to allege, then be 
 silent, and do not torment me now when I have such pressing need 
 of rest." 
 
 By way of answer, the girls once more began whimpering and 
 whining, and describing their losses circumstantially. Melina was 
 quite beside himself : for he had suffered more in purse than any of 
 them ; more indeed than we can rightly estimate. He stamped like a 
 madman up and down the little room, he knocked his head against 
 the wall, he swore and scolded in the most unseemly nianner ; 
 and the landlady entering at this very time with news, that hLs wife 
 had been delivered of a dead child, he yielded to the most furious 
 ebullitions, while in accordance with him all howled and shrieked and 
 bellowed and uproared with double vigor. 
 
 Wilhelm, touched to the heart at once with sympathy in their sor- 
 rows, and with vexation at their mean way of thinking, felt all the 
 vigor of his soul awakened, notwithstanding the weakness of his 
 body. "Deplorable as your case may be," exclaimed he, "I shall 
 almost be compelled to despise you. No misfortune gives us right to 
 load an innocent man with reproaches. If I had share in this false 
 step, am not I suffering my share ? I lie wounded here ; and if the 
 company has come to logs, I myself have come to most. The ward- 
 robe of which we have been robbed, the decorations that are gone, 
 were mine ; for you, Herr Melina, have not yet paid me, and 1 here 
 fully acquit you of all obligation in that matter." 
 
 " It is well to give what none of us will ever see again," replied 
 Melina. "Your money was lying in my wife's coffer, and it is your 
 own blame that yow have lost it. But ah 1 if that were all ! " — And
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER VI 11. 175 
 
 thereupon he began anew to stamp and scold and squeal. Every one 
 recalled lo memory the superb clothes from the count's wardrobe ; the 
 buckles, watches, snuff boxes, hats, for which Melina had so happily 
 transacted with the head valet. Each then thought also of his own, 
 though far inferior treasures. They looked with spleen at Philina's 
 box : and gave Wilhelm to understand, that he had indeed done wisely 
 to connect himself with that fair personage, and to save his own 
 goods also, under the shadow of her fortune. 
 
 "Do you think," he exclaimed at last, "that I shall keep anything 
 apart while Nini are starving '! And is this the first time I have hon- 
 estly shared with ycni in a season of need ? Open the trunk : all that 
 is mine sliall go to supply the common wants." 
 
 " It is mp trunk," observed Philina, " and I will not open it till I 
 please. Yoiir rag or two of clothes, which I have saved for you, 
 could amount to Irttle, though they were sold to the most conscien 
 tious of Jews. Think of yourself ; what your cure will cost, what 
 may befall ycni in a strange country." 
 
 "You, Philina," answered Wilhelm, "will keep back from me 
 nothing that is mine ; and that little will help us out of the first per 
 plexity. But a man possesses many things besides coined money to 
 assist his friends with. All that is in me shall be devoted to these 
 helpless persons ; who doubtless, on returning to their senses, will 
 repent their present conduct. " Yes," continued be, " I feel that you 
 have need of help, and what is mine to do, I will perform, (iive me 
 your confidence again ; compose yourselves for a moment, and accept 
 of what I promise ! Who will receive the engagement of me in the 
 name of all?" 
 
 Here he stretched out his hand and cried : "I promise not to flinch 
 from you, never to forsake you till each shall see his losses doubly 
 and trebly repaired ; till the situation you are fallen into, by whose 
 blame soever, shall be totally forgotten by all of you, and changed 
 for a better." 
 
 He kept his hand still stretched out : but no one would take hold 
 of it. "1 promise it again," cried he, sinking back upon his pillow. 
 All continued silent ; they felt ashamed, but nothing comforted ; and 
 Philina, sitting on her chest, kept cracking nuts, a stock of which she 
 had discovered in her pocket.
 
 176 MEISTEU'S APPHENTIGESHIP. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The huntsman now came back witli several people, and made prep- 
 arations for carrying away the wounded youth. He had persuaded 
 the parson of the place to receive the ' ' young couple " into his house ; 
 Philina's trunk was taken out ; she followed with a natural air of 
 dignity. Mignon ran before : and when the patient reached the par- 
 sonage, a wide couch, which had long been standing ready as guest's 
 bed and bed of honor, was assigned him. Here it was first discovered, 
 that his wound had opened and bled profusely. A new bandage was 
 required for it. He fell into a feverish state ; Philina waited on him 
 faithfully ; and when fatigue overpowered her, she was relieved by 
 the harper. Mignon, with the firmest purpose to watch, had fallen 
 asleep in a corner. 
 
 Next morning, Wilhelm, who felt himself in some degree refreshed, 
 learned by inquiring of the huntsman, that the honorable persons 
 who last night assisted him so nobly, had shortly before left their 
 estates, in order to avoid the movements of the contending armies, 
 and remain till the time of peace in some more quiet district. He 
 named the elderly nobleman as well as his niece ; mentioned the 
 place they were first going to ; and told how the young lady had 
 charged him to take care of Wilhelm. 
 
 The entrance of the surgeon interrupted the warm expressions of 
 gratitude, in which our friend was pouring out his feelings. He 
 made a circumstantial description of the wounds ; and certified that 
 they would soon heal, if the patient took care of them, and kept him- 
 self at peace. 
 
 When the huntsman was gone, Philina signified that he had left 
 with her a purse of twenty louis-d'or ; that he had given the parson 
 a remuneration for their lodging, and left with him money to defray 
 the surgeon's bill when the cure should be completed. She added, 
 that she herself passed everywhere for Wilhelm's wife ; that she 
 now begged leave to introduce herself once for all in this capacity, 
 and would not allow him to look out for any other sick-nurse. 
 
 " Philina," said Wilhelm, "in this disaster that has overtaken us, 
 I am already deeply in your debt for kindness shown me ; and I 
 should not wish to see my obligations incteased. I am restless so 
 long as you are near me ; for I know of nothing by which I can repay 
 your labor. Give me my things which you have saved in your 
 trunk : unite yourself to the rest of the company ; seek another lodg- 
 ing, take my thanks, and the gold watch as a small acknowledg- 
 ment : only leave me ; your presence disturbs me more than you can 
 fancy." 
 
 She laughed in his face when he bad ended. " Thou art a fool,"
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER IX. 177 
 
 she said ; " thou wilt uot gather wisdom. I know better what is 
 good for thee ; I will stay, I will not budge from the spot. I have 
 never counted on the gratitude of men, and therefore not on thine ; 
 and if I have a touch of kindness for thee, what hast thou to do 
 with it ? " 
 
 She stayed accordingly ; and soon wormed herself into favor with 
 the parson and his household ; being always cheerful, liaving the 
 knack of giving little presents, and of talking to each in his own 
 vein ; at the same time always contriving to do exactly what she 
 pleased. Wilhelm's state was not uncomfortable : the surgeon, an 
 ignorant but no unskillful man, let nature play her part ; and the 
 patient was not long till he felt himself recovering. For such con- 
 summation, being eager to pursue his plans and wishes, he vehe- 
 mently longed. 
 
 Incessantly he kept recalling that event, which had made an inef- 
 faceable impression on his heart. He saw the beautiful Amazon again 
 come riding out of the thickets ; she approached him, dismounted, 
 went to and fro, and strove to serve him. lie saw the garment she 
 was wrapt in fall down from her shoulders ; he saw her countenance, 
 her figure vanish in their radiance. All the dreams of his youth now 
 fastened on this image. Here he conceived he had at length beheld 
 the noble, the heroic Clorinda with his own eyes ; and again he be- 
 thought him of that royal youth, to whose sick-bed the lovely sym- 
 pathizing princess came in her modest meekness. 
 
 " May it not be," said he often to himself in secret, " that in youth \ 
 as in sleep, the images of coming things hover round us, and-myste- ; 
 piously become visible to our unobstructed eyes? May not the seeds \ 
 of what is to betide us be already scattered by the hand of fate ; may { 
 not a foretaste of the fruits we yet hope to gather possibly be given j 
 us '? " 
 
 His sick-bed gave him leisure to repeat those scenes in every mood. 
 A thousand times he called back the tone of that sweet voice ; a thou- 
 sand times he envied Philina, who had kissed that helpful hand. 
 Often the whole incident appeared before him as a dream ; and he 
 would have reckoned it a fiction, if the white surtout had not been 
 left behind to convince him that the vision had a real existence. 
 
 With the greatest care for this piece of apparel, he combined the 
 greatest wish to wear it. The first time he arose he put it on ; and 
 was kept in fear all day ^lest it might be hurt by some stain or other 
 injury.
 
 178 MEJSTEB'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Laektes visited his friend. He had not assisted in tliat lively scene 
 at the inn, being then confined to bed in an upper chamber. For his 
 loss he was already in a great degree consoled ; he helped hinaselt' 
 with his customary : " What does it signify V " He detailed various 
 laughable particulars about the company ; particularly charging Frau 
 Meliua with lamenting the loss of her still-born daughter, solely be- 
 cause she herself could not on that account enjoy the old German 
 satisfaction of having a Mechthilde christened. As for her husband, 
 it now appeared that he had been possessed of abundant cash ; and 
 even at first had by no means needed the advances which he had cajoled 
 from \Yilhelm. Melina's present plan was to set ofE by the next 
 postwageu ; and he meant to require of Wilhelm an introductory 
 letter to his friend, the manager Serlo, in whose company, the present 
 undertaking having gone to wreck, he now wished to establish him- 
 self. 
 
 For some days Mignon had been singularly quiet ; when pressed 
 with questions, she at length admitted that her right arm was out of 
 joint. " Thou hast thy own folly to thank for that," observed Phi- 
 lina, and then told how the child had drawn her sword in the battle ; 
 and seeing her friend in peril, had struck fiercely at the freebooters ; 
 one of whom had at length seized her by the ai'm, and pitched her to 
 a side. They chid her for not sooner speaking of her ailment ; but 
 they easily saw that she was apprehensive of the surgeon, who had 
 hitherto looked on her as a boy. With a view to remove the mischief , 
 she ^^•as made to keep her arm in a sling ; which arrangement, too, 
 displeased her ; for now she was obliged to surrender most part of 
 her share in the management and nursing of our friend to Philina. 
 That pleasing sinner but showed herself the more active and attentive 
 on this account. 
 
 One morning, on awakening, Wilhelm found himself in a strange 
 neighborhood with her. In the movements of sleep he had hitched 
 himself quite to the back of his spacious bed. Philina was lying 
 across from the front part of it ; she seemed to have fallen asleep 
 while sitting on the bed and reading. A book had dropped from her 
 hand ; she had sunk back, and her head was lying near his breast, 
 over which her fair and now loosened hair was spread in streams. 
 The disorder of sleep enlivened her charms more than heart or pur- 
 pose could have done ; a childlike smiling rest hovered on her coun- 
 tenance. He looked at her for a time ; and seemed to blame himself 
 for the pleasure which this gave him. He had viewed her attentively 
 for some moments, when she began to awake. He softly closed his 
 eyes ; but could not help glimmering at her through his eyelashes,
 
 BOOK IV. GHAPfER XL 179 
 
 as she trimmed herself again, and went away to consult about break- 
 fast. 
 
 All the actors had at length successively announced "themselves to 
 Wilhelm ; asking introductory letters, requiring money for their 
 journey with more or less impatience and ill-breeding ; and constantly 
 receiving it against Pliilina's will. It was in vain for her to tell our 
 friend, that the huntsman liad already left a handsome sum with 
 these people, and that accordingly they did but cozen him. To these 
 remonstrances he gave no heed ; on the conti-ary, the two had a sharp 
 quarrel on the subject ; which ended by Wilhelm signifying once for 
 all, that Philina must now join the rest of the company and seek her 
 fortune with Serlo. 
 
 For an instant or two she lost temper ; but speedily recovering her 
 composure, she cried, "If-I had but my fair-haired boy again, I 
 should not care a fig for any of you." She meant Friedrich, who had 
 vanished from the scene of battle, and never since appeared. 
 
 Next morning Mignon brought news to the bedside, that Philina 
 had gone off by night, leaving all that belonged to Wilhelm very 
 neatly laid out in the nest room. lie felt her absence ; he had lost 
 in her a faithful nurse, a cheerful companion ; he was no longer used 
 to be alone. But Mignon soon filled up the blank. 
 
 Ever since that light-minded beauty had been near the patient with 
 her friendly cares, the little creature had by degrees drawn back, and 
 remained silent and secluded in herself ; but the field being clear 
 once more, .she again came forth with her attentions and her love ; 
 again was eager in serving, and lively in entertaining him. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Wilhelm was rapidly approaching complete recovery ; he now 
 hoped to be upon hie journey in a few days. He proposed no more 
 to lead an aimless routine of existence ; the steps of his career were 
 henceforth to be calculated for an end. In the first place, he pur- 
 posed to seek out that beneficent lady, and express the gratitude 
 he felt to her ; then to proceed without delay to his friend the mana- 
 ger, that he might do his utmost to assist the luckless company ; in- 
 tending at the same time to visit the commercial friends whom he 
 had letters for, and to transact the business which had been intrusted 
 to him. He was not without hope that fortune, as formerly, would 
 favor him ; and give him opportunity, by some lucky speculation, to 
 repair his losses, and fill up the vacuity of liis coffer. 
 
 The desire of again beholding his beautiful deliverer augmented 
 every day. To settle his route, he took counsel with the clergyman, 
 a person well skilled in statistics and geography, and possessing a
 
 180 MEI8TEW8 APPRENTIGE8H1P. 
 
 fine collection of charts and books on those subjects. They twd 
 searched for the place wliich this noble family had chosen as their 
 residence while the war continued ; they searched for information 
 respecting the family itself. But their place was to be found in 
 no geography or map : and the heraldic manuals made no mention 
 of their name. Wilhelm became restless ; and having mentioned the 
 cause of his uneasiness, the harper told him he had reason to believe 
 that tlie huntsman, for whatever reason, had concealed the real 
 designations. 
 
 Conceiving himself now to be in the immediate neighborhood of his 
 lovely benefactress, Wilhelm hoped he might obtain some tidings of 
 her, if he sent out the harper ; but in this too he was deceived. Dili- 
 gently as the old man kept inquiring, he could find no trace of her. 
 Of late days a number of quick movements and unforeseen marches 
 had taken place in that quarter ; no one had particularly noticed the 
 traveling party ; and the ancient messenger, to avoid being taken for 
 a Jewish spy, was obliged to return, and appear without any olive- 
 leaf before his master and friend. He gave a strict account of his 
 conduct in this commission, striving to keep far from him all suspi- 
 cions of remissness. He endeavored by every means to mitigate the 
 trouble of our friend ; bethought him of every tiling that he had 
 learned from the huntsman, and advanced a number of conjectures ; 
 out of all which, one circumstance at length came to light, whereby 
 Wilhelm could explain some enigmatic words of his vanished bene- 
 factress. 
 
 The freebooters, it appeared, had lain in wait, not for the wander- 
 ing troupe, but for the noble company, whom they rightly guessed to 
 be provided with store of gold and valuables, and of whose movements 
 they must have had precise intelligence. Whether the attack should 
 be imputed to some free-corps, to marauders, or to robbers, was un- 
 certain. It was clear, however, that by good fortune for the high 
 and rich company, the poor and low had first arrived upon the place, 
 and undergone the fate which was provided for the others. It was 
 to this that the lady's words referred, which Wilhelm yet well recol- 
 lected. If he might now be happy and contented, that a prescient 
 genius had selected him for the sacrifice, which saved a perfect mor- 
 tal ; he was, on the other hand, nigh desperate, when he thought 
 that all hope of finding her and seeing her again was, at least for the 
 present, completely gone. 
 
 What increased this singular emotion still farther, was the likeness 
 which he thought he had observed between the countess and the 
 beautiful unknown. They resembled one another, as two sisters 
 may, of whom neither can be called the younger or the elder, for 
 they seem to be twins. 
 
 The recollection of the amiable countess was to Wilhelm infinitely 
 sweet. He recalled her image but too willingly into his memory. 
 But anon the figure of the noble Amazon would step l)etween ; one
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER XIL 181 
 
 vision melted and changed into the other, and the form of neither 
 would abide witli him. 
 
 A new resemblance, the similarity of their handwritings, naturally 
 struck him with still greater wonder. He had a cliarmiug song in the 
 countess's hand laid up iu liis portfolio ; and in the surtout he had 
 found a little note, inquiring with much tender care about the health 
 of an uncle. 
 
 Willielm was convinced that his benefactress must have penned this 
 billet ; that it must have been sent from one chamber to anotlier, at 
 some inn during their journey, and put into the coat-pocket by the 
 uncle. He held both papers together ; and if the regular and grace- 
 ful letters of the countess had already pleased him much, he found 
 in the similar but freer lines of the stranger a flowing harmony which 
 could not be described. The note contained nothing ; yet the strokes 
 of it seemed to affect him, as the presence of their fancied writer once 
 had done. 
 
 He fell into a dreamy longing ; and well accordant with his feel- 
 ings was the song which at that instant Mignon and tlie harper began 
 to sing, with a touching expression, in the form of an irregular duet : 
 
 Yoii never long'd and lov'd, 
 
 You know not grief like mine : 
 
 Alone and far remov'd 
 
 From joys or hopes, I pine : 
 
 A foreign sky above, 
 
 And a foreigii earth below me, 
 
 To the south I look all day ; 
 
 For the hearts that love aiid know me 
 
 Are far, are far away. 
 
 I bum, I faint, 'I languish. 
 
 My heart is waste, and sick, and sore ; 
 
 VV ho has not long'd in baffled anguish 
 
 Cannot know what I deplore. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The .soft allurements of his dear presiding angel, far from leading 
 our friend to any determined path, did but nourish and increase tlie 
 unrest which he had previously experienced. A secret fire was glid- 
 ing through his veins ; objects distinct and indistinct alternated within 
 his soul, and awoke unspeakable desire. At one time he wished for 
 a horse, at another for wings ; and not till it seemed impossible that 
 he could stay, did he look round him to discover whither he was 
 wanting to go. 
 
 The threads of his destiny had become so strangely entangled, he 
 ■wished to .see its curious knots unraveled or cut in two. Often, 
 when he heard the tramp of a horse or the rolling of a carriage, he
 
 183 MEISTER'S APPBENTIGESHlP. 
 
 would run to the window and look out, in hopes it might be some 
 one seeking him ; some one, even though it were by chance, bringing 
 him intelligence and certainty and joy. He told stories to .himself, 
 how his friend Werner might visit these parts and come upon him ; 
 how perliaps Mariana might appear. The sound of every post's horn 
 threw him into agitation. It would be Melina sending news to him 
 of his adventures ; above all, it would be the huntsman coming back 
 to carry him to the beauty whom he worshiped. 
 
 Of all these possibilities, unhappily no one occurred: he was forced at 
 last to return to the company of himself ; and in again looking through 
 the past, there was one circumstance, which the more he viewed and 
 weighed it, grew the more offensive and intolerable to him. It was 
 his unprosperous generalship ; of which he never thought without 
 vexation. For although, on the evening of the luckless day, he had 
 produced a pretty fair defense of his conduct when accused by the 
 company, yet he could not hide from himself that he was guilty. On 
 the contrary, in hypochondriacal moments he took the blame of the 
 whole misfortune. . .--^ 
 
 V Self-love exaggerates our faults as well as our virtues.^) Wilhelm 
 thought he liad awakened confidence in him, had guid^^the will of 
 the rest ; that, led by inexperience and rashness, they had ventured 
 on, till a danger seized them, for which they were no match. Loud 
 as well as silent reproaches had then assailed him ; and if in their 
 sorrowful condition he had promised to the company, misguided by 
 him, never to forsake tlieni till their loss had been repaid with usury ; 
 this was but another folly for which he had to blame himself, the 
 folly of presuming to take upon his single shoulders a misfortune that 
 was spread over many. One instant he accused himself of uttering 
 this promise, under the excitement and the pressure of the moment ; 
 the next he again felt that this generous presentation of his hand, 
 which no one deigned to accept, was but a light formality compared 
 with the vow which his heart had taken. He meditated means of 
 being kind and useful to them ; he found every cause conspire to 
 quicken his visit to Serlo. Accordingly he packed his things together ; 
 and without waiting his complete recovery, without listening to the 
 counsel of the parson or the surgeon, he hastened, in the strange 
 society of Mignon and the harper, to escape the inactivity, in which 
 his fate had once more too long detained him.
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER XIII '183 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Serlo received him with open arms, crying as he met him : "Is 
 it you ? Do I see you again ? You have scarcely changed at all. Is 
 your love for that noblest of arts still as lively and strong ? I myself 
 am so glad at your arrival, I even feel no longer the mistrust which 
 your last letters had exxjited in me." 
 
 Wilhelm asked with surprise for a clearer explanation. 
 
 " You have treated me," said Serlo, " not like an old friend, but as 
 if I were a great lord, to whom with a safe conscience you might 
 recommend useless people. Our destiny depends on the opinion of 
 the public ; and I fear Herr Melina and his suite can hardly be 
 received among us." 
 
 Wilhelm tried to say something in their favor ; but Serlo began to 
 draw so merciless a picture of them, that our friend was happy when 
 a lady came into the room, and put a stop to the discussion. She 
 was introduced to him as Aurelia, the sister of his friend : she received 
 liim with extreme kindne.ss ; and her conversation was so pleasing, 
 that he did not once remark a shade of sorrow visible on her expres- 
 sive countenance, to which it lent peculiar interest. 
 
 For the first time during many months, Wilhelm felt himself in 
 his proper element once more. Of late in talking, he had merely 
 found submissive listeners, and even these not always ; but now he 
 had the happiness to speak with critics and artists, who not only 
 fully understood him, but repaid his observations by others equally 
 instructive. With wonderful vivacity they traveled through the 
 latest pieces ; with wonderful correctness judged them. The decis- 
 ions of the public they could try and estimate ; they speedily threw 
 light on each other's thoughts. 
 
 Loving Shakespeare as our friend did, he failed not to lead round 
 the conversation to the merits of that dramatist. Expressing, as he 
 entertained, the liveliest hopes of the new epoch which these exquisite 
 productions must form in Clermauy, he ere long introduced his Ham- 
 let, who had busied him so much of late. 
 
 Serlo declared that he would long ago have played the piece, had 
 this been possible, and that he himself would willingly engage to act 
 Polonius. He added, with a smile : " An Ophelia, too, will certainly 
 turn up, if we had but a Prince." 
 
 Wilhelm did not notice that Aurelia seemed a little hurt at her 
 brother's sarcasm. Our friend was iu his proper vein, becoming 
 copious and didactic, expounding how he would have Hamlet played. 
 He circumstantially delivered to his hearers the opinions we before 
 saw him busied with ; taking all the trouble possible to make his 
 notion of the matter acceptable, skeptical as Serlo showed himself
 
 isi 
 
 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 regarding it. "Well, then," said the latter, finally, "suppose we 
 grant you all this, what will you explain by it ? " 
 
 " Much, everything," said Wilhelm. " Conceive a prince such as I 
 have painted him, and that his father suddenly dies. Ambition and 
 the love of rule are not tlie passions that inspire him. As a king's 
 sou he would have been contented ; but now he is first constrained to 
 consider the difference which separates a sovereign from a subject. 
 The crown was not hereditary ; yet a longer possession of it by his 
 father would have strengthened the pretensions of an only son, and 
 secured his hopes of the succession. In place of this, he now beholds 
 himself excluded by his uncle, in spite of specious promises, most 
 probably forever. He is now poor in goods and favor, and a stranger 
 in the scene which from youth he had looked upon as his inheritance. 
 His temper here assumes its first mournful tinge. He feels that now 
 he is not more, that he is less, than a private nobleman ; he offers 
 himself as the servant of every one ; he is not courteous and conde- 
 scending, he is needy and degraded. 
 
 ' ' His past condition he remembers as a vanished dream. It is in 
 vain that his uncle strives to cheer him, to present his situation in 
 another point of view. The feeling of his nothingness will not leave 
 him. • 
 
 " The second stroke that came upon him wounded deeper, bowed 
 still more. It was the marriage of his mother. The faithful tender 
 son had yet a mother, when his father passed away. He hoped, in 
 the company of his surviving noble-minded })arent, to reverence the 
 heroic form of the departed ; but his mother too he loses, and it is 
 something worse than death that robs him of her. The trustful 
 image, which a good child loves to form of its parents, is gone. 
 With the dead there is no help ; on the living no hold. She also is 
 woman, and her name is Frailty, like that of all her sex. 
 
 " Now first does he feel himself completely bent and orphaned; 
 and no happiness of life can repay what he has lost. Not reflective 
 or sorrowful by nature, reflection and sorrow have become for hun a 
 heavy obligation. It is thus that we see him first enter on the scene. 
 I do not think that I have mixed aught foreign with the piece, or 
 overcharged a single feature of it." 
 
 Serlo looked at his sister, and said, " Did I give thee a false picture 
 of our friend ? He begins well ; he has still many things to tell us, 
 many to persuade us of." Wilhelm asseverated loudly, that he 
 meant not to persuade, but to convince ; he beg-ged for another 
 moment's patience. 
 
 " Figure to yourselves this youth," cried he, "this son of princes ; 
 conceive him vividly, bring his state before your eyes, and then 
 observe him when he learns that his father's spirit walks ; stand by 
 him in the terrors of the night, when the venerable ghost itself 
 appears before him. A horrid shudder passes over him ; he speaks 
 to the mysterious form ; he sees it beckon him ; he follows it, and
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER XIV. 185 
 
 hears. The fearful accusation of his uncle rings in his ears ; the 
 summons to revenge, and the piercing oft-repeated prayer, Remember 
 me ! 
 
 "And when the ghost has vanished, who is it that stands before 
 us? A young hero panting for vengeance? A prince by birth, 
 rejoicing to be called to punish the usurper of his crown ? No I 
 trouble and astonishment take hold of the solitary young man ; he 
 grows bitter against smiling villains, swears that he will not forget 
 the spirit, and concludes with the significant ejaculation : 
 
 The time is out of joint : O cursed spite, 
 That ever I was born to set it right ! 
 
 "In these words, I imagine, will be found the key to Hamlet's 
 whole procedure. To_me it is clear that Shakesi)eare meant, in the 
 present case, to represent the effects of a great action laid upon a soul 
 unfit for the performance of it. In this view the whole piece seems 
 to nie fo be composed. There is an oak-tree planted in a costly jar, 
 which should have borne only pleasant Howers in its bosom ; the, 
 roots expand, the jar is shivered. 
 
 " A lovely, pure, noble and most moral nature, without the strength 
 of nerve which forms a hero, sinks l^eneath a burden which it cannot 
 bear and must not cast away. All duties are holy for him ; the jires- 
 ent is too hard. Impossibilities have been required of him ; not in 
 themselves impossibilities, but such for him. He winds, and turns, 
 and torments himself ; he advances and recoils ; is ever put in 
 mind, ever puts himself in mind ; at last does all but lose his purpose 
 from his thoughts ; yet still without recovering his peace of mind." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Severax, people entering interrupted the discussion. They were 
 musical dilettanti, who commonly assembled at Serlo's once a week, 
 and formed a little concert. Serlo himself loved music much : he 
 used to maintain, that a player without taste for it never could attain 
 a distinct conception and feeling of the scenic art. " As a man per- 
 forms," he would observe, " with far more ease and dignity, when his 
 gestures are accompanied and guided by a tune ; so the player ought, 
 in idea, as it were, to set to music even his prose parts, that he may 
 not monotonously slight them over in his individual style, but treat 
 them in suitable alternation by time and measure. " 
 
 Aurelia seemed to give biit little heed to what was passing ; at last 
 she conducted Wilhelm to another room, and going to the window and 
 looking out at the starry sky, she said to him : " You have still much
 
 186 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 to tell us about Hamlet ; I will uot hurry you ; my brother must hear 
 it as well as I ; but let me beg to know your thoughts about Ophelia." 
 
 "Of her there cannot much be said," he answered, "for a few 
 master strokes complete her character. The whole being of Ophelia 
 floats in sweet and ripe sensation. Kindness for the prince, to whose 
 hand she may aspire, flows so spontaneously, her tender heart obeys 
 its impulses so unresistingly, that both father and brother are afraid ; 
 both give her warning harshly and directly. Decorum, like the thin 
 lawn upon her bosom, cannot hide the soft, still movements of hex 
 heart ; it, on the contrary, betrays them. Her fancy is smit ; hem, 
 silent modesty breathes amiable desire, and if the friendly goddessl 
 .Opportunity should shake the tree, its fruit would fall." 
 
 " And then," said Aurelia, "when she beholds her.self forsaken, 
 cast away, despised ; when all is inverted in the soul of her crazed 
 lover, and the highest changes to the lowest, and instead of the sweet 
 cup of love he ofters lier the bitter cup of woe " 
 
 " Her heart breaks," cried Wilhelm ; "the whole structure of her 
 being is loosened from its joinings ; her father's death strikes fiercely 
 against it, and the fair edifice altogether crumbles into fragments." 
 
 Our friend had not observed with what expressiveness Aurelia pro- 
 nounced those words. Looking only at this work of art, at its connec- 
 tion and completeness, he dreamed not that his auditress was feeling 
 quite a different influence ; that a deep sorrow of her own was vividly 
 awakened in her breast by these dramatic shadows. 
 
 Aurelia's head was still resting on lier arms ; and her eyes, now 
 full of tears, were directed to the sky. At last, no longer able to con- 
 ceal her secret grief, she seized both hands of her friend, and 
 exclaimed, while he stood surprised before her : " Forgive, forgive a 
 heavy heart ! I am girt and pressed together by these people ; from 
 my hard-hearted brother I must seek to hide myself ; your presence 
 has untied tliese bonds. My friend," continued she, " it is but a few 
 minutes since we saw each other first, and already you are going to 
 become my confidant. " She could scarcely end the Avords, and sank 
 upon his shoulder. "Think not worse of me," she said, with sobs, 
 "that I disclose myself to you so hastily, that 1 am so weak before 
 you. Be my friend, remain my friend : 1 shall deserve it. " He spoke 
 to her in his kindest manner, but in vain ; her tears still flowed, and 
 choked lier words. 
 
 At this moment Serlo entered, most unwelcomely ; and most unex- 
 pectedly, Philina with her hand in his. " Here is your friend," said 
 he to her; " he will be glad to make his compliments to you." 
 
 " How ! " cried Wilhelm, in astonishment, " are you here'?" With 
 a modest, settled mien, she Avent up to him ; bade him welcome ; 
 praised Serlo's goodness, who, she said, without merit on her part, 
 but purely in the hope of her improvement, had agreed to admit her 
 into his accomplished troupe. She behaved all the while in a friendly 
 manner towards Wilhelm, yet with a dignified distance.
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER XV. 187 
 
 But this dissimulation lasted only till the other two were gone. 
 Aurelia having left them, that she might conceal her trouble, and 
 Serlo being called away, Philiua first looked very sharply at the doors 
 to see that both were really out ; then began skipping to and fro about 
 the room, as if she had been mad ; at last dropped down upon the 
 floor, like to die of giggling and laughing. She then sprang up, pat- 
 ted- and flattered our friend ; rejoicing above measure that she had 
 been clever enough to go before, and spy the land and get herself 
 nestled in. 
 
 " Pretty things are going on here," she said: "just of the sort I 
 like. Aurelia has had a hapless love affair with some nobleman, who. 
 seems to be a very stately person, one whom I myself could like to 
 see, some day. He has left her a memorial, or I much mistake. 
 There is a boy running about the house, of three years old or so ; the 
 papa must be a very pretty fellow. Commonly I cannot suffer chil- 
 dren, but this brat quite delights me. I have calculated Aurelia's 
 business. The death of her husband, the new acquaintance, the 
 child's age, all things agree. 
 
 ' ' But now her spark has gone his ways ; for a year she has not 
 seen a glimpse of him. She is beside herself and inconsolable, on 
 this account. The more fool she ! Her brother has a dancing girl in 
 his troupe, with whom he stands on pretty terms ; an actress to whom 
 he is betrothed ; in the town, some other women wliom he courts ; I 
 too am on his list. The more fool he ! Of the rest thou shalt hear 
 to-morrow. And now one word about Philina, whom thou knowest : 
 the arch-fool is fallen in love with thee." She swore that it was true 
 and a proper joke. She earnesly requested Wilhelm to fall in love 
 with Aurelia ; for then the chase would be worth beholding. " She 
 pursues her faithless swain, thou her, I thee, her brother me. If 
 that will not divert us for a quarter of a year, I engage to die at the 
 first episode which occurs in this four-times complicated tale." She 
 begged of him not to spoil her trade, and to show her such respect as 
 her external conduct should deserve. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Next morning Wilhelm went to visit Frau Melina ; but found her 
 not at home. On inquiring here for the other members of the wan- 
 dering community, he learned that Philiua had invited them to break- 
 fast. Out of curi<jsity, he hastened thither ; and found them all 
 cleared up and not a little comforted. The cunning creature had col- 
 lected them, was treating them with chocolate, and giving them to 
 understand that some prospects still remained for them ; that, by her 
 influence, she hoped to convince the manager how advantageous it
 
 188 MEISTEB'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 would be for liini to introduce so many clever liands among liis com- 
 pany. They listened to lier with attention ; swallowed cup after cup 
 of her chocolate ; thought the girl was not so bad after all ; and went 
 away proposing to themselves to speak whatever good of her they 
 could. 
 
 " Do you think then," said our friend, who stayed behind, "that 
 Serlo will determine to retain our comrades? " " Not at all," replied 
 Philina ; " uor do I care a fig for it. The sooner they are gone the 
 better ! Laertes alone I could wish to keep : the rest we shall by and 
 by pack off . " 
 
 Next she signified to Wilhelm her firm persuasion that he should 
 no longer hide his talent ; but, under the direction of Serlo, go upon 
 the boards. She was lavish in her praises of the order, the taste, the 
 spirit, which prevailed in this establishment ; she spoke so flatteringly 
 to Wilhelm ; and with such admiration of his gifts, that his heart 
 and his imagination wt re advancing toward this proposal, as fast as 
 his understanding and his reason were retreating from it. He con- 
 cealed his inclination from himself and from Philina ; and passed a 
 restless day, unable to resolve on visiting his trading correspondents, 
 to receive the letters which might there be lying for him. The 
 anxieties of his people during all this time he easily conceived ; yet 
 he shrank from the precise account of them ; particularly at the 
 present time, as he promised to himself a great and pure enjoyment 
 from the exhibition of a new piece that evening. 
 
 Serlo had refused to let him witness the rehearsal. " You must see 
 us on the best side," he observed, " before we can allow you to look 
 into our cards." 
 
 The acting of the piece, however, where our friend did not fail to 
 be present, yielded him a high satisfaction. It was the first time he 
 had ever seen a theater in such perfection. The actors were evidently 
 all possessed of excellent gifts, of superior capacities, and a high clear 
 notion of their art ; they were not equal ; but they mutually re- 
 strained and supported one another ; each breathed ardor into those 
 around him ; throughout all their acting, they showed themselves 
 decided and correct. You soon felt that Serlo was the soul of tin; 
 whole ; as an individual he appeared to much advantage. A merry 
 humor, a measured vivacity, a settled feeling of propriety, combined 
 with a great gift of imitation, were to be observed in him the moment 
 he appeared upon the stage. The inward contentment of his being 
 seemed to spread itself over all that looked on him ; and the intel- 
 lectual style, in which he could so easily and gracefully express the 
 finest shadings of his part, excited more delight, as he could conceal 
 the art which, by long-continued practice, he had made his own. 
 
 Aurelia, his sister, was not inferior ; she obtained .still greater ap- 
 probation, for she touched the souls of the audience, which it was 
 his to exhilarate and amuse. 
 
 After a few days had passed pleasantly enough, Aurelia sent to
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER XV. 189 
 
 inquire for our friend. He hastened to lier : she was lying on a sofa ; 
 she seemed to be sutTering from headache ; her whole frame had vis- 
 ibly a feverish movement. Her eye lighted up as she noticed Wil- 
 helm. " Pardon me ! " she cried, as he entered : " the trust you have 
 inspired me with has made me weak. Till now I have contrived to 
 bear up against my woes in secret ; nay, they gave me strength and 
 consolation ; but now, 1 know now how it is, you have loosened the 
 bands of silence ; you must, against your will, take part in the battle 
 I am fighting with myself." 
 
 Willielm answered her in friendly and obliging terms. He declared 
 that her image and her sorrow had not ceased to hover in his thoughts ; 
 that he longed for her confidence, and devoted himself to be her friend. 
 
 While he spoke, las eyes were attracted to the boy, who sat before 
 her on the floor,- and was busy rattling a multitude of playthings. 
 This child, as Philina observed, might be about three years of age ; 
 and Wilhelm now conceived how that giddy creature, seldom elevated 
 in her phraseology, had likened it to the sun. For its cheerful e_yes 
 and full countenance were .shaded by the finest golden locks, which 
 flowed round in copious curls ; dark, slender, softly-blending eyebrows 
 showed themselves upon a brow of dazzling whiteness ; and the liv- 
 ing tinge of health was glancing on his cheeks. " Sit by me," said 
 Aiirelia : "you are looking at the happy child with admiration; in 
 truth, I took it into my arms with joy ; I keep it carefully : yet by it 
 too I can measure the extent of my sufferings ; for they seldom let 
 me feel the worth of such a gift." 
 
 " Allow me," .she continued, "to speak to you about myself and 
 my destiny ; for I have it much at heart that you should not misun- 
 derstand me. I thought I should have a few calm instants, and ac- 
 cordingly I sent for you ; you are now here, and the thread of my 
 narrative is lost." 
 
 ' ' ' One more forsaken woman in the world ! ' you will say. You are 
 a man ; you are thinking : ' What a noise she makes, the fool, about 
 a necessary evil ; which, certainly as death, awaits a woman, when 
 such is the fidelity of men ! ' my friend ! if my fate were com- 
 mon, I would gladly undergo a common evil ; but it is so singular : 
 why cannot I present it to you in a mirror, why not command some 
 one to .tell it you ? O, had I, had I been seduced, surprised, and after- 
 wards forsaken, there would then still be comfort in despair ; but I 
 am far more miserable ; I have been my own dec'^'iver ; I have wit- 
 tingly betrayed myself ; and this, this is what shall never be forgiven 
 me. " 
 
 " With noble feelings, such as yours," said "Wilhelm, " you can 
 never be entirely unhappy." ■ 
 
 " And do you know to what I am indebted for my feelings 1 "asked 
 Aurelia. " To the worst education that ever threatened to contami- ' 
 nate a girl ; to the vilest examples for misleading the senses and the 
 inclinations.
 
 190 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 ' ' My mother dying early, the fairest years of my youth were spent 
 with an aunt, whose principle it was to despise the laws of decency. 
 She resigned herself headlong to every impulse ; careless whether 
 the object of it proved her tyrant or her slave, so she might forget 
 herself in wild enjoyment. 
 
 "By children, with the pure clear vision of innocence, what ideas 
 of men were necessarily formed in such a scene ! How stolid, bru- 
 tally bold, importunate, unmannerly, was every one whom she allured ! 
 How sated, empty, insolent and tasteless, when he left her ! I have 
 seen this woman live, for years, humbled under the control of the 
 meanest creatures. What incidents she had to undergo ! With what 
 a front she contrived to accommodate herself to her destiny ; nay, 
 with how much skill to wear those shameful fetters ! 
 
 " It was thus, my friend, that I became acquainted with your sex ; 
 and deeply did I hate it, when, as I imagined, I observed that even 
 tolerable men, in their conduct to ours, appeared to renounce every 
 honest feeling, of which nature might otherwise have made them 
 capable. 
 
 " Unhappily, moreover, on such occasions, a multitude of painful 
 discoveries about my own sex were forced upon me : and in truth I 
 was then wiser, as a girl of sixteen, than I now am ; now that Jr\ 
 scarcely understand myself. Why are we so wise when young; so/ 
 wise, and ever growing less so V " ^/ 
 
 "^ — The boy began to make a noise ; Aurelia became imiiatient, and 
 rung. An old wonum came to take him out. " Ilast thou toothache 
 still?" said Aurelia to the crone, whose face was wraj^ped in cloth. 
 " Unsufferable," said the other, with a muffled voice ; then lifted the 
 boy, wdio seemed to like going with her, and carried him away. 
 
 Scarcely was he gone, when Aurelia began bitterly to weep. "I 
 am good for nothing," cried she, "but lamenting and complaining ; 
 and I feel ashamed to lie before you lilie a miserable Avorm. My 
 recollection is already fled ; I can relate no more." She faltered, and 
 was silent. Her friend, unwilling to reply with a commonplace, and 
 unable to reply with anything particularly applicable, pressed her 
 hand, and looked at her for some time without speaking. Thus em- 
 barrassed, he at length took up a book, which he noticed lying on the 
 table before him : it was Shakespeare's works, and open at Hamlet. 
 
 Serlo at this moment entei-ing, inquiring about his sister ; and 
 looking in the book which our friend had hold of, cried : "So you 
 are again at Hamlet ? Very good ! Many doubts have arisen in me, 
 which seem not a little to impair the canonical aspect of the piece as 
 you would have it viewed. The English themselves have admitted 
 that its chief interest concludes with the third act ; the last two 
 lagging sorrily on, and scarcely uniting with the rest : and certainly 
 about the end it seems to stand stock-still." 
 
 "It is very possible," said Wilhelm, "that some individuals of a 
 nation, which has so many master-pieces to feel i)roud of, may be led
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER XV. 191 
 
 by prejudice and narrowness of mind to form false judgments ; but 
 this cannot hinder us from looking with our own eyes, and doing 
 justice where we see it due. I am very far from censuring the plan 
 of Hamlet ; on the contrary, I believe there never was a grander one 
 invented ; nay, it is not invented, it is real." 
 
 " How do you demonstrate that? " inquired Serlo. 
 
 " I will not demonstrate anything," said Wilhelm ; " I will merely 
 show you what my own conceptions of it are." ■ 
 
 Aurelia rose up from her cushion ; leaned upon her hand, and 
 looked at Wilhelm ; who, with the firmest assurance that he was in 
 the right, went on as follows : "It pleases us, it flatters us to see a 
 hero acting on his own strength ; loving and hating as his heart 
 directs him ; undertaking and completing ; casting every obstacle 
 aside ; and at length attaining some great object which he aimed at. 
 Poets and historians would willingly persuade us that so proud a lot 
 may fall to man. In Hamlet we are taught another lesson : the hero 
 is without a plan, but the piece is full of plan. Here we have no 
 villain punished on some self-conceived and rigidly-accomplished 
 scheme of vengeance : a horrid deed occurs ; it rolls itself along with 
 all its consequences, dragging guiltless persons also in its course ; the 
 perpetrator seems as if he would evade the abyss which is made ready 
 for him ; yet he plunges in, at the very point by which he tliinks he 
 shall escape and happily complete his course. 
 
 ' ' For it is the property of crime to extend its mischief over inno- 
 cence, as it is of virtue to extend its blessings over many that deserve 
 them not ; while frequently the author of the one or of the other is 
 not punished or rewarded at all. Here in this play of ours, how 
 strange ! The pit of darkness sends its spirit and demands revenge ; 
 in vain ! All circumstances tend one way, and hurry to revenge ; in 
 vain ! Neither earthly nor infernal thing may bring about what is 
 reserved for fate alone. The hour of judgment comes : the wicked 
 falls with the good : one race is mowed away, that another may spring 
 up." . • 
 
 ■•A-fter a pause, in which they looked at one another, Serlo said : 
 " You pay no great compliment to Providence, in thus exalting Shake- 
 speare ; and besides, it appears to me, that for the honor of your poet, 
 as others for the honor of Providence, you ascribe to him an object 
 and a plan, which he himself had never thought of."
 
 193 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "Let me also put a question," said Aurelia. " 1 have looked at 
 Ophelia's part again ; I ain contended with it, and conceive that under 
 certain circumstances I could play it. But tell me, should not the 
 poet have furnished the insane maiden with another sort of songs 1 
 Could not one select some fragments out of melanclioly ballads for this 
 purpose ! What have double meanings and lascivious insipidities to 
 do in the mouth of sucli a noble-minded pei-sonV" 
 
 " Dear friend," said Wilhelm, "even here 1 cannot yield you one 
 iota. In these singularities, in this apparent impropriety, a deep 
 sense is hid. Do we not understand from the very first what the 
 mind of a good soft-hearted girl was busied with ? Silently she lived 
 within herself, yet she scarce concealed her wishes, her longing ; the 
 tones of desire were in secret ringing through her soul ; and how 
 often may she have attempted, like an unskillful nurse, to lull her 
 senses to repose with songs which only kept them more awake '? But 
 at last, when her self-command is altogether gone, when the secrets 
 of her heart are hovering on her tongue, that tongue betrays her, and 
 in the innocence of insanity she solaces herself, unmindful of king or 
 queen, with the echo of her loose and well-beloved songs : ' To-mor- 
 row is Saint Valentine's Day' ; and ' By Gis and by Saint Charity.' " 
 
 He had not finished speaking, when all at once an extraordinary 
 scene took place before him, which he could not in any way explain. 
 
 Serlo had walked once or twice up and down the room without 
 evincing any special object. On a sudden, he step})ed forward to 
 Aurelia's dressing-table ; caught hastily at something that was l^'ing 
 there, and hastened to the door with his booty. No sooner did Au- 
 relia notice this, than springing up, she threw herself in his way ; 
 laid hold of him with boundless vehemence, and had dexteniy 
 enough to clutch an end of the article which he was carrying on. 
 They struggled and wrestled with great obstinacy ; twisted and threw 
 each other sharply round : he laughed ; she exerted all her strength ; 
 and as Wilhelm hastened towards them, to separate and soothe them, 
 Aurelia sprang aside with a naked dagger in her hand, while Serlo 
 cast the scabbard, which had stayed with him, angrily upon the floor. 
 Wilhelm started back astonished ; and his dumb wonder seemed to 
 ask the cause why so violent a strife, about so strange an implement, 
 had tak(^n j)lace between them. 
 
 " You shall judge betwixt us," said the brother. " What has she 
 to do with sharp steel ? Do but look at it. That dagger is not fit for 
 any actress : point like a needle's, edge like a razor's? Wliat good is 
 it'? Passionate as she is, she will one day cliance to do herself a 
 mischief. I have a heart's hatred at such singularities : a serious
 
 BOOR IV. GMAPTm XVL 198 
 
 tiiouglit of that sort is insane, and so dangerous a plaything is not in 
 taste. " 
 
 "I liave it back ! " exclaimed Aurelia, and held the polished blade 
 aloft ; "I will now keep my faithful friend more carefully. Pardon 
 me," she cried, and kissed the steel, " that I have so neglected tliee." 
 
 Serlo was like to grow seriously angry. " Take it as thou wilt, 
 brother," she continued ; " how knowest thou but, under this form, 
 a precious talisman may have been given me ; so that, in extreme 
 need, I may find help and counsel in it? Must all be hurtful that 
 looks dangerous '{ " 
 
 "Such talk without a meaning might drive one mad," said Serlo, 
 and left the room witli suppressed indignation. Aurelia put the dag- 
 ger carefully into its sheath, and placed it in her bosom. "Let us 
 now resume the conversation which our foolish brother has disturbed," 
 said she, as Wilhelm was beginning to put questions on the subject 
 of this quarrel. 
 
 " I must admit your picture of Ophelia to be just," continued she ; 
 "I cannot now misunderstand the object of the poet : I miist pity, 
 though, as you paint her, I shall rather pity her than sympathize 
 with her. But allow me here to offer a remark, which in these few 
 days you have frequently suggested to me. I observe with admi- 
 ration the correct, keen, penetrating glance with Avhich you judge 
 of poetry, especially dranxatic poetry : the deepest abysses of inven- 
 tion are not hidden from you, the finest touches of representation 
 cannot escape you. Without ever having viewed the objects in 
 nature, you recognize the truth of their images : there seems, as it 
 were, a presentiment of all the universe to lie in you, which by the 
 harmonious touch of poetry is awakened and unfolded. For in 
 truth," continued she, " from without, you receive not much ; I have 
 scarcely seen a person that so little knew, so totally misknew the 
 people he lived with, as you do. x\llow me to say it : in hearing you 
 expound the mysteries of Shakespeare, one would think you had just 
 descended from a synod of the gods, and had listened there while 
 .they were taking counsel how to form men ; in seeing you transact 
 with your fellov\'s, I could imagine you to be the first large-born child 
 of the creation, standing agape, and gazing with .strange wonderment 
 and edifying good nature, at lions and apes and sheep and elephants, 
 and true-heartedly addressing them as your equals, simply because 
 they were there, and in motion like yourself." 
 
 "The feeling of my ignorance in this respect," said Wilhelm, 
 " often gives me pain ; and I should thank you, worthy friend, if you 
 would help me to get a little better insight into life. From youth, I' 
 have been accustomed to direct the eyes of my spirit inward rather 
 than outward ; and hence it is very natural that to a certain extent 
 I should be acquainted with man, while of men I have not the small- 
 est knowledge." 
 
 "In truth," said Aurelia, " I at first suspected that, in giving such 
 Meister — 7
 
 L. 
 
 194 MEIBTEB'S APPRENTIOESHIP. 
 
 accounts of the people whom you sent to my brother, you meant to 
 make sport of us ; when I compared your letters with the merits of 
 these persons, it seemed very strange." 
 
 Aurelia's remarks, well-founded as they might be, and willing as 
 our friend was to confess himself deficient in this matter, carried 
 with them something painful, nay, offensive to him ; so that he grew 
 silent, ani retired within himself, partly to avoid showing any irri- 
 tated feeling, partly to search his mind for the truth or error of the 
 charge. 
 
 " Let not this alarm you," said Aurelia : " the light of the under- 
 standing it is always in our power to reach ; but this fullness of the 
 heart no one can give us. If you are destined for jm artist, you can- 
 not long enough retain the dim-sightedness and innocence of which 
 I speak ; it is the beautiful hull upon the young bud ; woe to us if 
 we are forced too soon to burst it ! Surely it were well, if we never 
 knew what the people are, for whom we work and study. 
 
 " Oh ! I too was in that happy case, when I first betrod the stage, 
 with the loftiest opinion of myself and of my nation. What a peo- 
 ple, in my fancy, were the Germans ; what a people might they yet 
 become ! I addressed this people ; raised above them by a little 
 joinery, separated from them by a row of lamps, whose glancing and 
 vapor threw an indistinctness over everything before me. How wel- 
 come was the tumult of applause, which, sounded to me from the 
 crowd ; how gratefully did I accept the present, offered me unani- 
 mously by so many hands ! For a time I rocked myself in these 
 ideas ; I affected the multitude, aud was again affected by them. 
 With my public I was on the fairest footing ; I imagined that I felt a 
 perfect harmony betwixt us, and that on each occasion I beheld be- 
 fore me the best and noblest of the land. 
 
 ' •' Unhappily it was not the actress alone that inspired these friends 
 of the stage with interest ; they likewise -made pretensions to the 
 young and lively girl. They gave me to understand in terms dis- 
 tinct enough, that my duty was not only to excite emotion in them, 
 but to share it with them personally. This unluckily was not my 
 business : I wished to elevate their minds ; but to what they called 
 their hearts I had not the slightest claim. Yet now men of all ranks, 
 ages and characters, by turns afflicted me with their addresses ; and 
 it did seem hard that I could not, like an honest young woman, shut 
 my door, and spare myself such a quantity of labor. 
 
 " The men appeared, for most part, much the same as I had been 
 accustomed to about my aunt ; and here again I should have felt dis- 
 gusted with them, had not their peculiarities and insipidities amused 
 me. As I was compelled to see them, in the theater, in open places, 
 in my house, I formed the project of spying out their follies, and my 
 brother helped me with alacrity to execute it. And if you reflect 
 that, up from the whisking shopman and the conceited merchant's 
 son, to the polished calculating man of the world, the bold soldier
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER XVL 195 
 
 :uid tlie Impetuous priuce, all in succession passed in review before 
 me, each in his way endeavoring to found his small romance, you 
 will pardon me if I conceived that I had gained some acquaintance 
 with my nation. 
 
 " The fantastically-dizened student ; the awkward, humbly-proud 
 man of letters ; the sleek-fed, gouty canon ; the solemn, heedful man 
 of office ; the heavy country baron ; the smirking, vapid courtier ; 
 the young erring parson ; the cool, as well as the quick and sharply- 
 speculating merchant : all these I have seen in motion ; and I swear 
 to you that there were few among them fitted to inspire me even with 
 a sentiment of toleration : on the contrary, I felt it altogether irksome 
 to collect, with tedium and annoyance, the suffrages of fools ; to 
 pocket those applauses in detail, which in their accumulated state 
 had so delighted me, which in the gross I had appropriated with such 
 pleasure. 
 
 " If I expected a rational compliment upon my acting ; if I hoped 
 that they would praise an author whom I valued, they were sure to 
 make one empty observation on the back of another, and to name 
 some tasteless piece in which they wished to see me play. If I lis- 
 tened in their company, to hear if some noble, brilliant, witty thought 
 had met with a response among them, and would reappear from some 
 of them in proper season, it was rare that I could catch an echo of it. 
 An error that had happened, a mispronunciation, a provincialism of 
 some actor ; such were the weighty points by which they held fast, 
 beyond which they could not pass. I knew not, in the end, to what 
 hand I should turn : themselves they thought too clever to be enter- 
 tained ; and me they imagined they were well entertaining, if they 
 romped and made noise enough about me. I began very cordially to 
 despise them all ; I felt as if the whole nation had, on purpose, 
 deputed these people to debase it in my eyes. They appeared to me so 
 clownish, so ill-bred, so wretchedly instructed, .so void of pleasing 
 qualities, so tasteless ; I frequently exclaimed : No German can 
 buckle his shoes, till he has learned to do it of some foreign nation ! 
 
 "Tou perceive how blind, how unjust and splenetic I was ; and 
 the longer it lasted, my spleen increased. I might have killed myself 
 with these things ; but I fell into the contrary extreme ; I married, 
 or rather let myself be married. My brother, who had undertaken to 
 conduct the theater, wished much to have a helper. His choice 
 lighted on a young man, who was not offensive to me ; who wanted 
 all that my brother had, genius, vivacity, spirit and impetuosity of 
 mind ; but who also in return had all that my brother wanted, love 
 of order, diligence, and precious gifts in housekeeping and the man- 
 agement of money. 
 
 " He became my husband, I know not how ; we lived together, I 
 do not well know why. Enough, our affairs went prosperously for- 
 ward. We drew a large income ; of this my brother's activity was 
 the cause. We lived with a moderate expenditure ; and that was
 
 196 MEI8TEB'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 the merit of my husband. I thought no more about world or nation. 
 With tlie world I had nothing to participate ; my idea of the nation 
 had faded away. When I entered on the scene, 1 did so that 1 might 
 subsist ; I opened my lips because I durst not continue silent, because 
 I had come out to speak. 
 
 " Yet let me do the matter justice. I had altogether given myself 
 up to the disposal of my brother. His objects were applause and 
 money ; for, between ourselves, he has no dislike to hear his own 
 praises, and his outlay is always great. 1 no longer played according 
 to my own feeling, to my own conviction ; but as he directed me : 
 and if I did it to his satisfaction, I was content. He steered entirely 
 by the caprices of the public. Money flowed upon us ; he could live 
 according to his humor, and so we had good times with him. 
 
 " Thus had I fallen into a dull handicraft routine. I spun out my 
 days without joy or sympathy. My marriage was childless, and not 
 of long continuance. My husband grew sick ; his strength was visi- 
 bly decaying ; anxiety for him interrupted my general indifference. 
 It was at this time that I formed an acquaintance, which opened a new 
 life for me ; a new and quicker one, for it will soon be done." 
 
 She kept silent for a time, and then continued : " All at once my 
 prattling humor falters ; I have not the courage to go on. Let me 
 rest a little. You shall not go, till you have learned the whole extent 
 of my misfortune. Meanwhile, call in Mignon, and ask her what she 
 wants." 
 
 The child had more than once been in the room, while Aurelia and 
 our friend were talking. As they spoke lower on her entrance, she 
 had gilded out again, and was now sitting quietly in the hall, and 
 waiting. Being bid return, she brought a book with her, which its 
 form and binding showed to be a small geographical atlas. She had 
 seen some maps, for the first time at the parson's house, with great 
 astonishment ; had asked him many questions, and informed herself 
 so far as possible about them. Her desire to learn seemed much 
 excited b_v this new branch of knowledge. She now earnestly re- 
 quested Wilhelm to purchase her the book ; saying she had pawned 
 her large silver buckle with the printseller for it, and wished to have 
 back the pledge to-morrow morning, as this evening it was late. Her 
 re(iuest was granted ; and she then began repeating several things 
 she had already learned ; at the same time, in her own way, making 
 many very strange inquiries. Here again one might observe, that, 
 with a mighty effort, she could comprehend but little and laboriously. 
 So likewise was it with her writing, at which she still kept busied. 
 She yet spoke very broken German ; it was only when she opened 
 her mouth to sing, when she touched her cithern, that she seemed to 
 be employing an organ by which, in some degree, the workings of her 
 mind could be disclosed and communicated. 
 
 Since we are at present on the subject, we may also mention the 
 perplexity which Wilhelm had of late experienced from certain
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER XVL 197 
 
 parts of lier procedure. VVheu she came or went, wished him good- 
 morning or goodnight, she chisped him so firmly in her arms, and 
 kissed him with such ardor, that often the violence of this expand- 
 ing nature gave him serious fears. The spasmodic vivacity of her 
 demeanor seemed daily to increase ; her whole being moved in a rest- 
 less stillness. She would never be without some piece of packthread 
 to twist in her hands ; some napkin to tie in knots ; some pai)er or 
 wood to chew. All her sports seemed but the channels which drained 
 off some inward violent commotion. The only thing that seemed to 
 cause her any cheerfulness was being near the boy Felix, with whom 
 she could go on in a very dainty manner. 
 
 Aurelia, after a little rest, being now ready to explain to her friend 
 a matter which lay very near her heart, grew impatient at the little 
 girl's delay, and signified that she must go ; a hint, however, which the 
 latter did not take ; and at last, when nothing else would do, they sent 
 her off expressly and against her will. 
 
 " Now or never," said Aurelia, "must I tell you the remainder of 
 my story. Were my tenderly-beloved and unjust friend but a few 
 miles distant, I would say to you : ' Mount on horseback, seek by 
 some means to get acquainted with him ; on returning you will cer- 
 tainly forgive me, and pity me with all your heart. ' As it is, I can 
 only tell you with words how amiable he was, and how much 1 loved 
 him. 
 
 '• It was at the critical season, when care for tlie illness of my hus- 
 band had depressed my spirits, that I first became acquainted with 
 this stranger. He had just returned from America, where, in com- 
 pany with some Frenchmen, he had served with much distinction 
 under the colors of the United States. 
 
 ' He addressed me with an easy dignity, a frank kindliness ; he 
 spoke about myself, my state, my acting, like an old acquaintance, so 
 affectionately and distinctly, that now for the first time I enjoyed the 
 pleasure of perceiving my existence reflected in the being of another. 
 His judgments were just, though not severe ; penetrating, yet not 
 void of love. He showed no harshness ; his pleasantry was courte- 
 ous, with all his humor. He seemed accustomed to success with 
 women ; this excited my attention : he was never in the least impor- 
 tunate or flattering ; this \>\\i me off my guard. 
 
 " In the town he had intercourse with few ; he was often on horse 
 back, visiting his many friends in the neighborhood, and managing 
 the business of his house. On returning, he would frequently alight 
 at my apartments ; he treated my ever-ailing husband with warm 
 attention ; he procured him mitigation of his sickness by a good jihy- 
 sician. And taking part in all that interested me, he allowed me to 
 take part in all that interested him. He told me the history of his 
 campaigns ; lie spoke of his invincible attachment to military life, of 
 his family relations, of his present business. He kept no secret from 
 jne ; he displayed to me hi§ inmost thoughts, allowed me to behold
 
 198 MEISTER 'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 the most secret corners of liis soul : I became acquainted with his 
 passions and his capabilities. It was the first time in my life that 1 
 enjoyed a cordial, intellectual intercourse with any living creature. I 
 was attracted by him, borne along by him, before I thought about 
 inquiring how it stood with me. 
 
 "Meanwhile I lost my husband, nearly just as I had taken him. 
 The burden of theatrical afEairs now fell entirely on me. My brother, 
 not to be surpassed upon the stage, was never good for anything in eco- 
 nomical concerns : I took the charge of all ; at the samie time study- 
 ing my parts with greater diligence than ever. I again played as of 
 old ; nay, with new life, with quite another force. It was by reason 
 of my friend, it was on his account that I did so ; yet my success was 
 not always best when I knew him to be present. Once or twice he 
 listened to me unobserved ; and how pleasantly his unexpected ap- 
 plause surprised me you may conceive. 
 
 "Certainly I am a strange creature. In every part I played, it 
 seemed as if I had been speaking it in praise of him ; for that was 
 the temper of my heart, the words might be anything they pleased. 
 Did I understand him to be present in the audience, I durst not ven- 
 ture to speak out with all my force ; ju.st as I would not press my 
 love or praise on him to his face : was he absent, I had then free 
 scope ; I did my best, witli a certain peacefuluess, with a contentment 
 not to be described. Applause once more delighted me ; and when I 
 charmed the people, I longed to call down among them : ' This you 
 owe to him 1 ' 
 
 " Yes my relation to the public, to the nation, had been altered by 
 a wonder. On a sudden they again appeared to me in the most 
 favorable light ; I felt astonished at my former blindness. 
 
 "How foolish, said I often to myself, was it to revile a nation ; 
 foolish, simply since it was a nation. Is it necessary, is it possible, 
 that individual men should generally interest us much ? Not at all ! 
 The only question is, whether in the great mass there exists a suffi- 
 cient quantity of talent, force and capability, which lucky circum- 
 stances may develop, which men of lofty minds may direct upon a 
 common object. I now rejoiced in discovering so little prominent 
 originality among my countrymen ; I rejoiced that they disdained not 
 to accept of guidance from without ; I rejoiced that they had found a 
 leader. 
 
 " Lothario — allow me to designate my friend by this his first name 
 which I loved — Lothario had always presented the Germans to my 
 mind on the side of valor ; and shown me, that when well commanded, 
 there was no braver nation on the face of the earth ; and I felt ashamed 
 that I had never thought of this the first quality of a people. Histoiy 
 was known to him ; he was in connection and correspondence with 
 the most distinguished persons of the age. Young as he was, his 
 eye was open to the budding youthhood of his native country ; to the 
 silent labors of active and busy men in so naany provinces of art. H^
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER XVII. 199 
 
 afforded me a glimpse of Germany ; what it was, and what it might 
 be ; and I blushed at having formed my judgment of a nation from 
 the motley crowd, that press themselves into the wardrobe of a 
 theater. He made me look upon it as a duty that I too, in my own 
 department, should be true, spirited, enlivening. 1 now felt as if 
 inspired, every time I stepped upon the boards. Mediocre passages 
 grew golden in my mouth ; had any poet been at hand to support me 
 adequately, I might have produced the most astonishing effects. 
 
 " So lived the young widow for a series of months. He could not 
 want me ; and I felt exceedingly unhappy when he stayed away. He 
 showed me the letters he received from his relations, from his amiable 
 sister. He took an interest in the smalle.st circumstances that con- 
 cerned me ; more complete, more intimate no union ever was than 
 ours. The name of love was not mentioned. He went and came, 
 came and went — And now, my friend, it is high time that you too 
 should go." 
 
 CHAPTER XVH. 
 
 Welhelm could put off no longer the visiting of his commercial 
 friends. He proceeded to their place with some anxiety ; knowing 
 he should there find letters from his people. He dreaded the reproofs 
 which these would of course contain ; it seemed likely also that notice 
 had been given to his trading correspondents, concerning the per- 
 plexities and fears which his late silence had occasioned. After such 
 a series of knightly adventures, he recoiled from the school-boy aspect 
 in which he must appear ; he proposed within his mind to act with 
 an air of sternneiis and defiance, and thus hide his embarrassment. 
 
 To his great wonder and contentment, however, all went off very 
 easily and well. In the vast, stirring, busy counting-room, the men 
 had scarcely time to seek him out his packet ; his delay was but 
 alluded to in passing. And on opening the letters of his father and 
 his friend Werner, he found them all of very innocent contents. His 
 father, in hopes of an extensive journal, the keeping of which h^ 
 had strongly recommended to his son at parting, giving him also a 
 tabular scheme for that purpose, seemed pretty well pacified about 
 the silence of the first period ; complaining only of a certain enigmat- 
 ical obscurity in the last and only letter, dispatched, as we have seen, 
 from the castle of the count. Werner joked in his way : told merry 
 anecdotes, facetious burgh news ; and requested intelligence of friends 
 and acquaintances, whom Wilhelm in the large trading city would 
 now meet with in great numbers. Our friend, extremely pleased at 
 getting off so well, answered without loss of a moment, in some very 
 cheerful letters : promising his father a copious journal of his travels,
 
 200 M BISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 with all the required geographical, statistical and mercantile remarks. 
 He had seen much on his journey, he said ; and hoped to make a toler- 
 ably large manuscript out of these materials. He did not observe, 
 that he Avas almost in the same case ashe had once experienced be- 
 fore, when he assembled an audience and lit his lamps to represent a 
 play, which was not written, still less got by heart. Accordingly, so 
 • soon as he commenced the actual work of composition, he became 
 aware that he had much to say about emotions and thoughts, and 
 many experiences of the heart and spirit ; but not a word concerning 
 outward objects, on which, as he now discovered, he had not bestowed 
 the least attention. 
 
 ■ In this embarrassment, the acquisitions of his friend Laertes came 
 very seasonably to his aid. Custom had united these young people, 
 unlike one another as they were ; and Laertes, with all his failings and 
 singularities, was actually an interesting man. Endowed with warm 
 and pleasurable senses, he might have reached old age without re- 
 flecting for a moment on his situation. But his ill fortune and his 
 sickness had robbed him of the pure feelings of youth ; and opened 
 for him instead of it a view into the trausitoriness, the discontinuity 
 of man's existence. Hence had arisen a humorous, flighty, rhapsodi- 
 cal way of thinlcing about all thingti, or rather of uttering the imme- 
 diate impressions they produced on him. He did not like to be alone ; 
 he strolled about all the coffee-houses and tables-d'fiote ; and when 
 he did stay at home, books of travel were his favorite, nay, his only 
 kind of reading. Having lately found a large circulating library, he 
 had been enabled to content his taste in this res]5ect to the full ; and 
 ere long half the world was figuring in his faithful memory. 
 
 It was easy for him, therefore, to speak comfort to his friend, when 
 the latter had disclosed his utter lack of matter for the narrative so 
 solemnly promised by him. " Now is the time for a stroke of art," 
 said Laertes, "that shall have no fellow ! 
 
 "Has not Germany been traveled over, cruised over, walked, crept 
 and flown over, repeatedly from end to end ? And has not every CJer- 
 man traveler the royal privilege of drawing from the public a repay- 
 ment of the great or small expenses he may have incurred while 
 traveling? Give me your route previous to our meeting- ; the rest 1 
 know already. I will find you helps and sources of information ; of 
 miles that were never measured, populations that were never counted, 
 we shall give them plenty. The I'evenues of provinces we will take 
 from almanacs and tables, which, as all men know, are the most au- 
 thentic documents. On these we will ground oui' political discus- 
 sions ; we shall not fail in side glances at the ruling powers. One or 
 two princes we will paint as true fathers of their countiy, that we 
 may gain more ready credence in our allegations against otliers. If 
 we do not travel through the residence of any noteil man, we shall 
 take care to meet such persons at the inn, and make them utter the 
 most foolish stuff to us. Purtifn.larly, let us not forget to insert, with
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER XVUI. 201 
 
 all its graces and sentiments, some love story with a pastoral bar- 
 maid. 1 tell you it shall be a composition, which will not only fill 
 father and mother with delight, but which booksellers themselves 
 shall gladly pay you current money for." 
 
 They went accordingly to work ; and both of them found pleasure 
 in their lal)or. Wilhelm, in the meantitne frequenting the play at 
 night, and conversing with Serlo and Aurelia by day, experienced the 
 greatest satisfaction ; and was daily more and more expanding his 
 ideas, which had been too long revolving in the same narrow circle. 
 
 CHAPTER XVm. 
 
 It was not without deep interest that he became acquainted with 
 the history of Serlo's career. Piecemeal he learned it ; for it was 
 not the fashion of that extraordinary man to be confidential, or to 
 speak of anything connectively. He had been, one may say, born and 
 suckled in a theater. While yet literally an infant, he had been pro- 
 duced upon the stage to move spectators merely by his presence ; for 
 authors even then were acquainted with this natural and very 
 guiltless mode of doing so. Thus his first " Father ! " or " Mother ! " 
 in favorite pieces, procured him approbation, before he understood 
 what was meant by that clapping of the hands. In the character of 
 Cupid he more than once descended, with terror, in his flying-gear ; 
 as Harlequin he used to issue from the egg ; and as a little chimney- 
 sweep to play the sharpest tricks. 
 
 Unhappily, the plaudits of these glancing nights were too bitterly 
 repaid by sufferings in the intervening seasons. His father was per- 
 suaded that the minds of children could be kept awake and steadfast 
 by no other means than blows ; hence, in the studying of any part, 
 he used to thrash him at stated periods ; not because the boj- was 
 awkward, but that he might become more certainly and constantly 
 expert. It was thus that in former times, while putting down a land- 
 mark, people were accustomed to bestow a hearty drubbing on the 
 children who had followed them ; and these, it svas supposed, would 
 recollect the place exactly to the latest day of their lives. Serlo 
 waxed in stature, and showed the finest capabilities of spirit and of 
 body ; in particitlar an admirable pliancy at once in his thoughts, 
 looks, movements and gestures. His gift of imitation was beyond 
 belief. When still a boy he could mimic persons, so that you would 
 think you saw them ; though in form, age and disposition, tliey might 
 be entirely unlike liim, and unlike each other. Nor, with all this, 
 did he want the knack of suiting liimself to his circumstances, and 
 picking oat his way in life. Accordingly, so soon as he had grown 
 in some degree acquainted with his strength, he very naturally eloped
 
 202 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 from his father ; who, as the boy's understanding and dexterity 
 increased, still thought it needful to forward their perfection by the 
 harshest treatment. 
 
 Happy was the wild boy, now roaming free about the world, where 
 his feats of waggery never failed to secure him a good reception. 
 His lucky star first led him in the Christmas season to a cloister, 
 where the friar, whose business it had been to arrange processions, 
 and to entertain the Christian community by spiritual masquerades, 
 having just died, Serlo was welcomed as a helping angel. On the 
 instant he took up the part of Gabriel in the Annunciation ; and did 
 not by any means displease the pretty girl, who, acting the Virgin, 
 very gracefully received his most obliging kiss, with external hu- 
 mility and inward pride. In their mysteries he continued to perform 
 the most important parts : and thought himself no slender personage, 
 when at last, in the character of Martyr, he was mocked of the world, 
 and beaten, and fixed upon the cross. 
 
 Some pagan soldiers had, on this occasion, played their parts a 
 little too naturally. To be avenged on these heathen in the proper 
 style, he took care at the day of judgment to have them decked out 
 in gaudy clothes as emperors and kings ; and at the moment when 
 they, exceedingly contented with their situation, were about to take 
 precedence of the rest in heaven as they had done on earth, he on a 
 sudden rushed upon them in the shape of the devil ; and, to the 
 cordial edification of all the beggars and spectators, having thoroughly 
 curried them with his oven-fork, he pushed them without mercy back 
 into the chasm, where, in the midst of waving flame, they met with 
 the sorriest welcome. 
 
 He was acute enough, however, to perceive that these crowned 
 heads might feel offended at such bold procedure ; and perhaps for- 
 get the reverence due to his privileged office of accuser and turnkey. 
 So in all silence, before the millennium commenced, he withdrew, 
 and betook him to a neighboring town. Here a society of persons, 
 denominated Children of Joy, received him with open arms. They 
 were a set of clever, strong-headed, lively geniuses, who saw well 
 enough that the sum of our existence, divided by reason, never gives 
 an integer number, but tliat a surprising fraction is always left be- 
 hind. At stated times, to get rid of this fraction, which impedes, and 
 if it is diffused over all the mass of our conduct, endangers us, was 
 the object of the Children of Joy. For one day a- week each of them 
 in succession was a fool on purpose ; and during this, he in his turn 
 exhibited to ridicule, in allegorical representations, whatever folly lie 
 had noticed in himself or the rest, throughout the other six. This 
 practice might be somewhat ruder than that constant training, in the 
 course of which a man of ordinary morals is accustomed to observe, 
 to warn, to punish himself daily ; but it was also merrier and surer. 
 For as no Child of Joy concealed his bosom folly, so he and those 
 about him held it for simply what it was : whereas, on the other plan,
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER XVIH. 203 
 
 by the help of self-deception, this same bosom-folly often gains the 
 head authority within, and binds down reason to a secret servitude, 
 at the very time when reason fondly hopes that she has long since 
 chased it out of doors. The mask of folly circulated round in this 
 society ; and each member was allowed, in his particular day, to deco- 
 rate and characterize it with his own attributes or those of others. 
 At the time of carnival, they assumed the greatest freedon, vieing 
 with the clergy in attempts to instruct and entertain the multitude. 
 Their solemn figurative processions of virtues and vices, arts and 
 sciences, quarters of the world, and seasons of the year, bodied forth 
 a number of conceptions, and gave images of many distant objects to 
 the people, and hence were not without tlieir use ; while, on the 
 other hand, the mummeries of the priesthood tended but to strengthen 
 a tasteless superstition, already strong enough. 
 
 Here again young Serlo was altogether in his element. Invention, 
 in its strictest sense, it is true, he had not ; but, on the other hand, 
 he had the most consummate skill in employing what he found before 
 him ; in ordering it, and shadowing it forth. His roguish turns, his 
 gift of mimicry, his biting wit, which at least one day weekly he 
 might use with entire freedom, even against his benefactors, made 
 him precious, or rather indispensable, to the whole society. 
 
 Yet his restless mind soon drove him from this favorable scene to 
 other quarters of his country, where other means of instruction 
 awaited him. He came into the polished but also barren part of 
 Germany, where, in worshiping the good and the beautiful, there is, 
 indeed, no want of truth, but frequently a grievous want of spirit. 
 His masks would here do nothing for him ; he had now to aim at 
 working on the heart and mind. For short periods he attached him- 
 self to small or to extensive companies of actors ; and marked, on these 
 occasions, what were the distinctive properties both of the pieces and 
 the players. The monotony which then reigned on the German thea- 
 ter, the mawkish sound and cadence of their Alexandrines, the flat 
 and yet distorted dialogue, the shallowness and commonness of these 
 undisguised preachers of morality, he was not long in comprehend- 
 ing ; or in seizing, at the same time, what little there was that moved 
 and pleased. 
 
 Not only single parts in the current pieces, but the pieces them- 
 selves remained easily and wholly in his memory ; and along with 
 them, the special tone of any player who had represented them with 
 approbation. At length, jn the course of his rambles, his money 
 being altogether done, the project struck him of acting entire pieces 
 by himself, especially in villages and noblemen's houses ; an'd thus 
 in all places making sure, at least, of entertainment and lodging. In 
 any tavern, any room, or any garden, he would accordingly at once 
 set up his theater : with a roguish seriousness and a show of enthu 
 .siasm, he would contrive to gain the imaginations of his audience ; to 
 deceive their senses, and before their eyes to make an old press into a
 
 204 MEISTER'S APPRENTIGESBIP. 
 
 tower, or a fan into a dagger. His youtliful warmth supplied tte 
 place of deep feeling ; his vehemence seemed strength, and his flat- 
 tery tenderness. Such of the spectators as already knew a theater, 
 he put in mind of all they had seen and heard ; in the rest he awak- 
 ened a presentiment of something wonderful, and a wish to be more 
 acquainted with it. What produced aia etfect in one place he did not 
 fail to repeat in others ; and his mind overflowed with a wicked pleas- 
 ure when, by the same means, on the spur of the moment, he could 
 make gulls of all the world. 
 
 His spirit was lively, brisk and unimpeded ; by frequently repeat- 
 ing parts and pieces he improved very fast. Ere long he could recite 
 and play with more conformity to the sense, than the models whom 
 he had "at first imitated. Proceeding thus, he arrived by degrees at 
 playing naturally, though he did not cease to feign. He seemed 
 transported, yet he lay in wait for the effect ; and his greatest pride 
 was in movii>g, by successive touches, the passions of men. The mad 
 trade he drove did itself soon force him to proceed with a certain mod- 
 eration ; and thus, partly by constraint, partly by instinct, he learned 
 the art of which so few players seem to have a notion, the art of 
 being frugal in the use of voice and gestures. 
 
 Thus did he contrive to tame, and to inspire with interest for him, 
 even rude and unfriendly men. Being always contented with food 
 and shelter, thankfully accepting presents of any kind as readily as 
 money ; which latter, when he reckoned that he had enough of it, 
 he frequently declined — he became a general favorite ; was sent 
 about from one to another with recommendatory letters ; and thus he 
 wandered many a day from castle to castle, exciting much festivity, 
 enjoying much, and meeting in his travels with the most agreeable 
 and curious adventures. 
 
 With such inward coldness of temper, he could not properly be said 
 to love any one ; with such clearness of \nsion, he could respect no 
 one. In fact, he never looked beyond the external peculiarities of 
 men, and he merely carried their characters in his mimical collection. 
 Yet withal his selfisliness was keenly wounded, if he did not please 
 every one, and call forth universal applause. How this might be 
 attained, he had studied in the course of time so accurately, and so 
 sharpened his sense of the matter, that not only on the stage, but also 
 in common life, he no longer could do otherwise than flatter and 
 deceive. And thus did his disposition, his talent and his way of life, 
 work reciprocally on each other, till by this means he had imperce])- 
 tibly been formed into a perfect actor. Nay, l)y a mode of action and 
 reaction, which is quite natural, though it seems parad(«ical, his 
 recitation, declamation and gesture, improved by critical dLscernment 
 and practice, to a high degree of truth, ease and frankness ; while, 
 in his life and intercourse with men, he seemed to grow continually 
 more secret, artful, or even hypocritical and constrained. 
 
 Of his fortunes and adventures we perhaps shall speak in another
 
 ^ook IV. csapter XIX. 205 
 
 place ; it is enough to remark at present, that in later times, when 
 lie had become a man of circumstance, in possession of a distinct 
 reputation, and of a very good though not entirely secure employment 
 and rank, he was wont, in conversation, partly in the way of irony, 
 partly of mockery, in a delicate style, to act the sophist, and thus to 
 destroy almost all serious discussion. This kind of speech he seemed 
 peculiarly fond of using towards Wilhelm ; particularly when the 
 latter took a fancy, as often happened, for introducing any of his 
 general and theoretical disquisitions. Yet still they liked well to be 
 together ; with such different modes of thinking, the conversation 
 could not fail to be lively. Wilhelm always wished to deduce every- 
 thing from abstract ideas which he had arrived at ; he wanted to 
 have art viewed in all its connections as a whole. He wanted to pro- 
 mulgate and fix down universal laws ; to settle what was right, 
 beautiful and good : in short, he treated all things in a serious man- 
 ner. Serlo, on the other hand, took up the matter very lightly : 
 never answering directly to any question, he would contrive by some 
 anecdote or laughable turn, to give the finest and most satisfactory 
 illustrations ; and thus to instruct his audience while he made them 
 merry. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 While our friend was in this way living very happily, Melina and 
 the rest were in quite a different case. Wilhelm they haunted like 
 evil spirits ; and not only by iheir presence, but frequently by rueful 
 faces and bitter words, they caused him many a sorry moment. Serlo 
 had not admitted them to the most trifling part, far less held out to 
 them any hope of a permanent engagement ; and yet he had contrived, 
 by degrees, to get acquainted with the capabilities of every one of 
 them. Whenever any actors were assembled in leisure hours about 
 him, he was wont to make them read, and frequently to read along 
 with them. On such occasions, he took plays which were by and by 
 to be acted, which for a long time had remained unacted ; and gen- 
 erally by portions. In like manner, after any first representation, he 
 caused such passages to be repeated as he had anything to say upon ; 
 by which means he sharpened the discernment of his actors, and 
 strengthened their certainty of hitting the proper point. And as a 
 person of slender but correct understanding may produce more agree- 
 able effect on others, than a perplexed and unpurified genius, he would 
 frequently exalt men of mediocre talents, by the clear views which 
 he imperceptibly afforded them, to a wonderful extent of power. 
 Nor was it an unimportant item in his scheme, that he likewise had 
 poems read before him in their meetings ; for by these he nourished 
 in his people the feeling of that charm which a well-pronounced
 
 306 MEISTEM'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 rhythm is calculated to awaken in the soul ; whereas in other com- 
 panies, those prose compositions were already getting introduced, for 
 which any tyro was adequate. 
 
 On occasions such as these, he had contrived to make himself 
 acquainted with the new-come players ; he had decided what they 
 were, and what they might be ; and silently made up his mind to 
 take advantage of their talents, in a revolution which was now 
 threatening his own company; For a while he let the matter rest ; 
 declined every one of Wilhelm's intercessions for his comrades, with 
 a shrug of tlie shoulders ; till at last he saw his time, and altogether 
 unexpectedly made the proposal to our friend, " that he himself 
 should come upon the stage ; that on this condition, the others too 
 might be admitted. " 
 
 "These people must not be so useless as you formerly described 
 them," ausAvered Wilhelm, " if they can now be all received at once ; 
 and I suppose their talents would remain the same without me as 
 with me." 
 
 Under seal of secrecy, Serlo hereupon explained its situation : how 
 his first actor was giving hints about a rise of salary at the renewal 
 of their contract ; how he himself did not incline conceding this, the 
 rather as the individual in question was no longer in such favor with 
 the public ; how, if he dismissed him, a whole train would follow ; 
 whereby, it was true, his company would lose some good, but like- 
 wise some indifferent actors. He then showed Wilhelm what he 
 hoped to gain in him, in Laertes, Old Boisterous, and even Frau 
 Melina. Nay, he promised to procure for the silly pedant himself, 
 in the character of Jew, minister, but chiefly of villain, a decided 
 approbation. 
 
 Wilhelm faltered ; the proposal fluttered him ; he knew not what 
 to say. That he might say sometliiug, he rejoined with a deep-drawn 
 breath : ' ' You speak very graciously about the good you find and 
 hope to find in us : but how is it with our weak points, which cer- 
 tainly have not escaped your penetration 't " 
 
 "These," said Serlo, "by diligence, practice and reflection, we 
 shall soon make strong points. Though you are yet but freshmen 
 and bunglers, there is not one among you that does not warrant ex- 
 pectation more or less ; for, so far as I can judge, no stick, properly 
 so called, is to be met with in the company : and your stick is the only 
 person that can never be improved, never bent or guided, whether it 
 be self-conceit, stupidity, or hypochondria, that renders liim unpli- 
 ant." 
 
 The manager next stated, in a few words, the terms he meant to 
 offer ; requested Wilhelm to determine soon, and left him in no small 
 perplexity. 
 
 In the marvelous composition of those travels, which he had at 
 first engaged with as it were in jest, and was now carrying on in con- 
 junction with Laertes, his mind had by degrees grown more attentive
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER XTX. 207 
 
 to tlie circumstances aud the every-day life of the actual world than 
 it was wont. He now first understood the object of his father in so 
 earnestly recommending' him to keep a journal. He now, for the 
 first time, felt how pleasant and liow useful it might be to become 
 participator in so many trades and requisitions, and to take a hand in 
 diflFusing activity and life into the deepest nooks of the niountains 
 and forests of Europe. The busy trading town in which he was ; the 
 unrest of Laertes, who dragged him about to examine everything, af- 
 forded him the most impressive image of a mighty center, from which 
 everything was flowing out, to which everything was coming back ; 
 and it was the first time that his spirit, in contemplating this species 
 of activity had really felt delight. At such a juncture Serlo's offer 
 had been made him ; had again awakened his desires, liis tendencies, 
 his faith in a natural talent, and again brought into mind his solemn 
 obligation to his helpless comrades. 
 
 " Here standest thou once more," said he within himself, " at the 
 parting of the ways, between the two women who appeared before 
 thee in thy youth. The one no longer looks so pitiful as then ; nor 
 does the other look so glorious. To obey the one, or to obey the 
 other, thou art not without a kind of inward calling ; outv/ard reasons 
 are on both sides strong enough ; and to decide appears to thee im- 
 possible. Thou wishest some preponderancy from without would fix 
 thy choice ; and yet, if thou consider well, it is external circumstances 
 only that inspire thee with a wish to trade, to gather, to possess : 
 whilst it is thy inmost want that has created, that has nourished the 
 desire still farther to unfold and perfect what endowments soever for 
 the beautiful and good, be they mental or bodily, may lie within thee. 
 And ought I not to honor fate, which without furtherance of mine 
 has led me hither to the goal of all my wishes ? Has not all that I in 
 old times meditated and forecast, now happened accidentally, and 
 without any co-operation? Singular enough ! We seem to be so 
 intimate with nothing as we are with our own wishes and hopes, ^ 
 which have long been kept and cherished in our hearts ; yet when 
 they meet us, when they as it were press forward to us, then we! 
 know them not, then we recoil from them. All that, since the hap- 
 less night which severed me from Mariana, I have but allowed my- 
 self to dream, now stands before me, entreating my acceptance. 
 Hither I intended to escape by flight ; hither I am softly guided : 
 with Serlo I meant to seek a place ; he now seeks me, and ofTers me 
 conditions which, as a beginner, I could not have looked for. Was it| 
 then mere love to Mariana that bound me to the stage? Or love tol 
 art that bound me to her ? Was that prospect, that outlet, which the i 
 theater presented me, nothing but the project of a restless, disorderly ' 
 and disobedient boy, wishing to lead a life which the customs of 
 tlio civic world would not admit of. Or, was all this different, 
 worthier, purer? If so, what moved thee to alter the persuasions of 
 that period? Hast thou not hitherto, even without knowing it, pur-
 
 308 MEISTEB'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 sued thy plan ? Is not the "concluding step still farther to be justified, 
 now that no side-purposes combine with it ; now that in making it 
 thou mayest fulfill a solemn promise, and nobly free thyself from a 
 heavy debt?" 
 
 All that could affect his heart and his imagination was now 
 moving, and conflicting in the liveliest strife within him. The 
 thought that he might retain Mignon, that he should not need to put 
 away the harper, was not an inconsiderable item in the balance ; 
 which, however, had not ceased to waver to the one and to the other 
 side, when he went, as he was wont, to see his friend Aurelia. 
 
 1 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 She was lying on the sofa ; she seemed quiet. " Do you think you 
 will be fit to act to-morrow ?" he inquired. "0 yes ! " cried she with 
 vivacity, 'you know there is nothing to prevent me. If I but knew 
 a way," continued she, " to rid myself of those applauses ! The peo- 
 ple mean it well, but they will kill me. Last night, I thought my 
 very lieart would break 1 . Once, when I used to please myself, I 
 could endure this gladly : when I had studied long, and well prepared 
 myself, it gave me joy to hear the sound, ' It has succeeded ! ' pealing 
 back to me from every corner. But now I speak not what I like, nor 
 as I like : I am swept along, I get confused, I scarce know what I do ; 
 and the impression I make is far deeper. The applause grows louder, 
 and I think : Did you but know what charms you ! These dark, 
 vague, vehement tones of passion move you, force you to admire ; 
 and you feel not that they are the cries of agony, wrung from the 
 miserable being whom you praise. 
 
 " I learned my part this morning ; just now I have been repeating 
 it and trying it. I am tired, broken down ; and to-morrow I must do 
 the same. To-morrow evening is the play. Thus do I drag myself 
 to and fro : it is wearisome to rise, it is wearisome to go to bed. All 
 moves within me in an everlasting circle. Then come their dreary 
 consolations, and present themselves before me ; and I cast them out, 
 and execrate them. I will not surrender, not surrender to necessity : 
 why should that be necessary, which crushes me to the dust ? Might 
 it not be otherwi.se ? I am paying the penalty of being born a Ger- 
 man ; it is the nature of the Germans that they bear heavily on every- 
 thing, that everything bears heavily on them." 
 
 "O my friend!" cried Willielni, "could you cease to whet the 
 dagger wherewith you are ever wounding nie ! Does nothing then 
 remain for you? Are your youth, your form, your health, your 
 talents nothing ? Having lost one blessing, without blame of yours, 
 must you throw all the others after it? Is that also necessary? "
 
 BOOK IV. CHAPTER XX. 209 
 
 She was silent for a few moments, and then burst forth : " I know 
 well it is a waste of time, nothing but a waste of time, this love ! 
 What might not, should not I have done ! And now it is all vanished 
 into air. 1 am a poor, wretched, lovelorn creature ; lovelorn, that is 
 all ! O, have comi^assion on me : God knows I am poor and 
 wretched ! " 
 
 She sank in thought ; then, after a brief pause, she exclaimed with 
 violence : " You are accustomed to have all things fly into your arms. 
 No, you cannot feel ; no man is qualified to feel the worth of a woman 
 that can reverence herself. By all the holy angels, by all the images 
 of blessedness, which a pure and kindly heart creates, there is not 
 anything more heavenly than the soul of a woman giving herself to 
 the man she loves ! 
 
 " We are cold, proud, high, clear-sighted, wise, while we deserve 
 the name of women ; and all these qualities we lay down at your 
 feet, the instant that we love, that we hope to excite a return of love. 
 O, how have I cast away my whole existence wittingly and willingly ! ; 
 But now will I despair, purposely despair. There is no drop of 
 blood within me but shall suffer, no fiber that I will not punish. 
 Smile, I pray you ; laugh at this theatrical disi)lay of passion."* 
 
 Wilhelm was far enough from any tendency to laugh. This horri- 
 ble, half-natural, half -factitious condition of his friend afflicted him 
 but too deeplv. He sympathized in the tortures of that racking 
 misery : his thoughts were wandering in painful perplexities, his 
 blood was in a feverish tumult. 
 
 She had risen, and was walking up and down the room. "I see 
 before me," she exclaimed, " all manner of reasons why I should not 
 love him. I know he is not worthy of it : I turn my mind aside, this 
 way and that ; I seize upon whatever business I |j|Ln find. At one 
 time 1 take up a part, though I have not to play it ; at another, I be- 
 gin to practice old ones, though I know them through and through ; 
 I practice them more diligently, more minutely, I toil and toil at them^ 
 — My friend, my confidant, what a horrid task is it to tear away one's ,' 
 thoughts from one's self ! My reason suffers, my brain is racked and 
 strained : to save myself from madness I again admit the feeling that 
 I love him. Yes, I love him, I love him ! " cried she, with a shower 
 of tears , " I love him, I shall die loving him ! " 
 
 He took her by the hand, and entreated her in the most earnest 
 manner not to waste herself in such self -torments. " O, it seems 
 hard," said he, " that not only so much that is impossible should be 
 denied us, but so much also that is possible. It was not your lot to 
 meet with a faithful heart that would have formed your pei'fect hap- 
 piness. It was mine to fix the welfare of my life upon a hapless crea- 
 ture, whom by the weight of my fidelity I drew to the bottom like a 
 reed, pei-haps even broke in pieces ! " 
 
 He had told Aurelia of his intercourse with Mariana, and could 
 therefore now refer to it. She looked him intently in the face, and
 
 210 MEI81EB' 8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 asked : " Can you say tliat you never yet betrayed a woman, tliat yf)u 
 never tried with tliouglitless gallantry, with false asseverations, wth 
 cajoling oaths, to wheedle favor f i-om her ? " 
 
 " I can," said Wilhelni, " and indeed without much vanity : my life 
 has been so simple and sequestered, I have had but few enticements 
 to attempt such things. And what a warning, my beautiful, my no- 
 ble friend, is tliis melancholy state in which 1 see you ! Accept of me 
 a vow, which is suited to my heart : which, under the emotion you 
 have caused me, has settled into words and shape, and will be hal- 
 lowed by the hour in which I utter it : Each transitory inclination I 
 will study to withstand ; and even the most earnest I will keep with- 
 in my bosom ; no w^oman shall recieve an acknowledgment of love 
 from my lips, to whom 1 cannot consecrate my life ! " 
 
 She looked at him with a wild indifference ; and drew back some 
 steps as he offered her his hand. " 'Tis of no moment !" cried she : 
 "so many women's tears more or fewer : the ocean will not swell by 
 reason of them. And yet," continued she, "among thousands one. 
 woman saved ; that still is something : among thousands one honest 
 man discovered ; this is not to be refused. Do you know then what 
 you promise ? " 
 
 " I know it," answered Wilhelm with a smile, and holding out his 
 hand. 
 
 " I accept it then," said she, and made a movement with her right 
 hand, as if meaning to take hold of his : but instantly .she darted it 
 into her pocket, pulled out her dagger quick as lightning, and scored 
 with the edge and point of it across his hand. Ke hastily drew it back, 
 but the blood was already running down. 
 
 " One must mark you men rather sharply, if one would have you 
 take heed," crie^ she with a wild mirtli, which soon passed into a 
 quick assiduity. She took her handkerchief, and bound his hand 
 with it to stanch the fast-flowing blood. " Forgive a half -crazed 
 being," cried she, "and regret not these few drops of blood. lam 
 appeased, I am again myself. On my knees will I crave your pardon : 
 leave me the comfort of healing you." 
 
 She ran to her drawer ; brought lint, with other apparatus ; 
 stanched the blood, and viewed the wound attentively. It went across 
 the palm, close under the thumb, dividing the life-lines, and running 
 towards the little finger. She bound it up in silence, with a signifi- 
 cant, reflective look. He asked once or twice : " Aurelia, how could 
 you hurt your friend ? " 
 
 " Hush I " replied she, laying her finger on her mouth : " Hush ! "
 
 BOOK V. 0HAP2ER I. 211 
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Thus Wilhelm, to his pair of former wounds, wlxich were yet 
 scarcely liealed, had now got the accession of a third, which was fresh 
 and not a little disagreeable. Aurelia would not suffer him to call a 
 surgeon ; she dressed the hand with all manner of strange speeches, 
 saws and ceremonies ; and so placed him in a very painful situation. 
 Yet not he alone, but all persons who came near her, suffered by her 
 restlessness and singularity : and no one more than little Felix. This 
 stirring child was exceedingly impatient under such oppression, and 
 showed himself still naughtier, the more she censured and instructed 
 him. 
 
 He delighted in some practices which commonly are thought bad 
 habits, and in which she would not by any means indulge him. He 
 would drink, for example, rather from the bottle than the glass ; and 
 his food seemed visibly to have a better relish when eaten from the 
 bowl than from the plate. Such ill-breeding was not overlooked : if 
 he left the door standing open, or slammed it to ; if when bid do any- 
 thing, he stood stock-still, or ran off violently, he was sure to have a 
 long lecture intlicted on him for the fault. Yet he showed no symp- 
 toms of improvement from this training : on the iOther hand, his 
 affection for Aurelia seemed daily to dimnish ; there was nothing 
 tender in his tone when he called her mother ; whereas he passion- 
 ately clung to the old nurse, who let him have his will in everything. 
 
 But slie likewise had of late become so sick, that they had at last 
 been obliged to take her from the house into a quiet lodging ; and 
 Felix would have been entirely alone, if Mignon had not, like a kindly 
 guardian spirit, come to help him. The two children talked together,- 
 and amused each other in the prettiest style. She taught him little 
 songs ; and he, having an excellent memory, frequently recited them, 
 to the surprise of those about him. She attempted also to explain her 
 maps to him. With these she was still very busy, though she did 
 not seem to take the fittest method. For, in studying countries, she 
 appeared to care little about any other point than whether they were 
 cold or wai-m. Of the north and south poles, of the horrid ice w-hich 
 reigns there, and of the increasing heat the farther one retires from 
 them, she could give a very clear account. When any one was travel- 
 ing, she merely asked whether he was going northward or southward ; 
 and strove to find his route in her little charts. Especially when
 
 212 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 Wilhelm spoke of traveling, she was all attention, and seemed vexed 
 when anything occurred to change the subject. Though she could 
 not be prevailed upon to undertake a part, or even to enter the theater 
 when any play was acting, yet she willingly and zealously committed 
 many odes and songs to memory ; and by unexpectedly, and as it 
 were on the spur of the moment, reciting some such poem, generally 
 of the earnest and solemn kind, she would often cause astonishment 
 in every one. 
 
 Serlo, accustomed to regard with favor every trace of opening 
 talent, encouraged, her in such performances ; but what pleased him 
 most in Mignon was her sprightly, various and often even mirthful 
 singing. By means of a similar gift, the harper likewise had acquired 
 his favor. 
 
 Without himself possessing genius for music, or playing on any 
 instrument, Serlo could rightly prize the value of the art ; he failed 
 not, as often as he could, to enjoy this pleasure, which cannot be 
 compared with any other. He held a concert once a week : and now, 
 with Mignon, the harper and Leartes, Avho was not unskillful on the 
 violin, he had formed a very curious domestic band. 
 
 He was wont to say : ' ' Men are so inclined to content themselves 
 with Avhat is commonest ; the spirit and the senses so easily grow 
 dead to the impressions of the beautiful and perfect, that every one 
 should study, by all methods, to nourish in his mind the faculty of 
 feeling these things. For no man can bear to be entirely deprived of 
 such enjoyments : it is only because they are not used to taste of what 
 is excellent, that the generality of people take delight in silly and 
 insipid things, provided they be new. For this reason," he would 
 add, " one ought every day at least to hear a little song, read a good 
 poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few rea- 
 sonable words." With such a turn of thought in Serlo, which in 
 some degree was natural to him, the persons who frequented his 
 society could scarcely be in want of pleasant conversation. 
 
 It was in the midst of these instructive entertainments, that Wil- 
 helm one day received a letter sealed in black. Werner's hand 
 betokened mournful news ; and our friend was not a little shocked 
 when, opening the sheet,' he found it to contain the tidings of his 
 father's death, conveyed in a very few words. After a short and sud- 
 den illness he had parted from the world, leaving his<iomestic affairs 
 in the best possible order. 
 
 This unlooked-for intelligence struck Wilhelm to the heart. He 
 deeply felt how careless and negligent we often are of friends and 
 relations while they inhabit with us this terrestrial sojourn ; and how 
 we first repent of our insensibility when the fair union, at leaSt for 
 this side of time, is finally cut asunder. His grief for the early death 
 of this honest parent was mitigated only by the feeling, that he had 
 loved but little in the world, and the conviction that he had enjoyed 
 but little.
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER I 213 
 
 Wilhelm's thoughts soon turned to his own predicament ; and he 
 felt himself extremely discomposed. A person can scarcely be put 
 into a more dangerous position, than when external circunistiinces 
 have produced some striking change in his condition, without his/ 
 manner of feeling and of thinking having undergone any preparation' 
 for it. There is then an epoch without epoch ; and the contradiction 
 whicn arises is the greater, the less the person feels that he is not 
 trained for this new manner of existence. 
 
 Wilhelm saw himself in freedom, at a moment when he could not 
 yet be at one with himself. His thoughts were noble, his motives 
 pure, his purposes were now to be despised. All this he could with 
 some degree of confidence acknowledge to himself ; but he had of 
 late been frequently enough compelled to notice, that experience was 
 sadly wanting to him ; and hence on the experience of others, and on 
 the result which they deduced from it, he put a value far beyond its 
 real one ; and thus led himself still deeper into error. What he 
 wanted, he conceived he might most readily acquire if he undertook 
 to collect and retain whatever memorable thought he should meet 
 with, in reading or in conversation. He accordingly recorded his own 
 or other men"s opinions, nay, wrote whole dialogues, when they 
 chanced to interest him. But unhappily by this means he held fast 
 the false no less firmly than the true ; he dwelt far too long on one 
 idea, particularly when it was of an aphoristic shape : and thus he 
 left his natural mode of thought and action, and frequently took 
 foreign lights for his loadstars. Aurelia's bitterness, and Laertes's 
 cold contempt for men, warped his judgment oftener than they should 
 have done : but no one, in his present case, would have been so 
 dangerous as Jarno, a man whose clear intellect could form a just and 
 rigorous decision about present things ; but who erred withal in 
 enunciating these particular decisions with a kind of universal appli- 
 cation ;/ "whereas, in truth, the judgments of the understanding are 
 properly of force but once, and that in the strictest cases, and become 
 inaccurate in some degree when applied to any other. 
 
 Thus Wilhelm, striving to" become consistent witli himself, was 
 deviating farther and farther from wholesome consistency ; and this 
 confusion made it easier for his passicTns to employ their whole 
 artillery against him, and thus still farther to perplex liis views of 
 duty. 
 
 Serlo did not fail to take advantage of the late tidings ; and in 
 truth he daily had more reason to be anxious about some fresh 
 arrangement of his people. Either he must soon renew his old con- 
 tract : a measure he was not specially fond of, for several of his 
 actors, who reckoned themselves indispensable, were growing more 
 and more arrogant ; or else he must entirely new-model and reform 
 his company ; which plan he looked upon as preferal)le. 
 
 Though he did not personally importune our friend, he set Aurelia 
 and Philiua on him : and the other wanderers, longing for some kind
 
 214 MEISTER'S APPRENriCESHIP. 
 
 of settlement, on tlieir side gave Wilhelm not a moment's rest ; so 
 that he stood hesitating in his choice, in no slight embarrassment, 
 till he should decide. Who would have thought that a letter of 
 Werner's, written with quite different views, should have forced him 
 on resolving '? We shall omit the introduction, and give the rest of 
 it with little alteration. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " — It was, therefore, and it always must be, right for every one, on 
 any opportunity, to follow his vocation and exhibit his activity. 
 Scarcely had the good old man been gone a quarter of an hour, when 
 everything in the house began moving by a different plan than his. 
 Friends, acquaintances, relations, crowded forward ; especially all 
 sorts of people who on such occasions use to gain anything. They 
 fetched and carried, they counted, wrote and reckoned ; some brought 
 wine and meat, others ate and drank ; and none seemed busier than 
 the women getting out the mournings. 
 
 "Such being the case, thou wilt not blame me that, in this emer- 
 gency, I likewise thought of my advantage. I made myself as active, 
 and as helpful to thy sister, as I could ; and so soon as it was any 
 way decorous, signified to her that it had now become our business 
 to accelerate a union, which our parents in their too great circum 
 spection had hitherto postponed. 
 
 " Do not suppose, however, that it came into our heads to take pos- 
 session of that monstrous empty house. We are more modest, and 
 more rational. Thou shalt hear our plan ; thy sister, so soon as we 
 are married, comes to our house ; and thy mother comes along with 
 her. ' How can that be ? ' thou wilt say ; ' you have scarcely room 
 for yourselves in that hampered nest.' There lies the art of it, my 
 friend ! Good packing renders all things possible ; thou wouldst not 
 believe what space one finds, when one desires to occupy but little. 
 The large house we shall sell ; an opportunity occurs for this ; and 
 the money we shall draw fqr it will produce a hundred-fold. 
 
 " I hope this meets thy views : 1 hope also thou hast not inherited 
 tlie smallest particle of those unprofitable tastes for which thy father 
 and thy grandfather were noted. The latter placed liis greatest hap- 
 piness in having about him a multitude of dull-looking works of art, 
 which no one, I may well say no one, could enjoy with him ; the for- 
 mer lived in a stately pomp which he suffered no one to enjoy with 
 him. W^e mean to manage otherwise, and we expect thy approbation. 
 
 "It is true, I myself in all the house have no place whatever but 
 the stool before my writing-desk ; and I see not clearly where they 
 will be able to jnit a cradle down : but in return, the room we shall have 
 out of doors will be the more abundant. Coffee-houses and clubs for
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER 11. 215 
 
 the husband ; walks and drives for the wife ; and pleasant country 
 jaunts for both. But the chief advantage in our plan is, that the 
 round table being now completely filled, our father cannot ask his 
 friends to dinner, who the more he strove to entertain them, used to 
 laugh at him the more. 
 
 " Now no superfluity for us ! Not too much furniture and appara- 
 tus ; no coach, no horses ! Nothing but money ; and the liberty, day 
 after day, to do what you like in reason. No wardrobe ; still the 
 best and newest on your back : the man may wear liis coat till it is 
 done ; the wife may truck her gown the moment it is going out of 
 fashion. There is nothing so unsufferable to me as an old huckster's 
 shop of property. If you would offer me a jewel, on condition of my 
 wearing it daily on my finger, 1 would not accept it ; for how can one 
 conceive any pleasure in a dead capital ? This then is my confession 
 in faith : To transact your business, to make money, to be merry 
 with your household ; and about the rest of the earth to trouble your, ^^ 
 self no farther than where you can be of service to it. i ^^ 
 
 " But ere now thou art saying : ' And pray what is to be done with \ 7* 
 me in this sage plan of yours? Where shall I find shelter, when ' "^^ 
 you have sold my own house, and not the smallest room remains in 
 yours ? ' 
 
 " This is in truth the main point, brother ; and in this too I shall 
 have it in my power to serve thee. But first I must present the just 
 tribute of my pi'aise for time so spent as thine has been. 
 
 " Tell me, how hast thou within a few weeks become so skilled in 
 every useful, interesting object? Highly as I thought of thy powers, 
 I did not reckon such attention and such diligence among the num- ' 
 ber. Thy journal shows us with what profit thou art traveling. The 
 description of the iron and the copper forges is exquisite ; it evinces 
 a complete knowledge of the subject. 1 myself was once there ; but 
 my relation, compared with this, has but a very bungled look. The 
 whole letter on the linen-trade is full of information ; the remarks on 
 commercial competition are at once just and striking. In one or two 
 places there are errors in addition, which indeed are very pardonable., 
 
 " But what most delights my father and myself is thy thorough 
 knowledge of husbandry, and the improvement of landed property. 
 We have thoughts of purchasing a large estate, at present under 
 sequestration, in a very fruitful district. For paying it, we mean to 
 use the money realized by the sale of the house ; another portion we 
 shall borrow ; a portion may remain unpaid. And we count on thee 
 for going thither, and superintending the improvement of it ; by 
 which means, before many years are passed, the land, to speak in 
 moderation, will have risen above a third in value. We shall then 
 bring it to the market again ; seek out a larger piece ; improve and 
 trade as formerly. For all this, thou art the man. Our pens, mean- . 
 while, will not lie idle here ; and so by and by we shall rise to be \ 
 enviable people.
 
 216 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 " For the present, fare thee well ! Enjoy life on thr journey, and 
 turn thy face wherever thou caust find contentment and advantage. 
 For the nest half year we shall not need thee ; thou canst look about 
 thee in the world where thou pleasest ; a judicious person finds his 
 best instruction in his travels. Farewell ! I rejoice at being con- 
 nected with thee so closely by relation, and now united with thee in 
 the spirit of activity." 
 
 Well as this letter might be penned, and full of economical truths 
 as it was, Wilhelm felt displeased with it for more than one reason. 
 The praise bestowed on him for his pretended statistical, technologi- 
 cal and rural knowledge, was a silent reprimand. The ideal of the 
 happiness of civic life, which his worthy brother sketched, by no 
 means charmed him ; on the contrary, a secret spirit of contradiction 
 dragged him forcibly the other way. He convinced himself that, 
 except on the stage, he could nowhere find that mental culture which 
 he longed to give himself ; he seemed to grow the more decided in 
 his resolution, the more strongly Werner, without knowing it, opposed 
 him. Thus assailed, he collected all his arguments together, and 
 buttressed his opinions in his mind the more carefully, the more desir- 
 able he reckoned it to show them in a favorable light to Werner ; 
 and in this manner he produced an answer, which also we insert. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 "Thy letter is so well written, and so prudently and wisely con- 
 ceived, that no objection can be made to it. Only thou must pardon 
 me, when I declare that one may think, maintain and do directly the 
 reverse, and yet be in the right as well as thou. Thy mode of being 
 and imagining appears to turn on boundless acquisition, and a light, 
 mirthful manner of enjoyment ; I need scarcely tell thee, that in all 
 this I find little that can charm me. 
 
 " First, however, I am sorry to admit, that my journal is none of 
 mine ! Under the pressure of necessity, and to satisfy my father, it 
 was patched together by a friend's help, out of many books ; and 
 though in words I know the objects it relates to, and more of the like 
 sort, I by no means understand them, or can occupy myself about 
 tliem. What good were it for me to manufacture jierfect iron, while 
 my own breast is full of dross '? What would it stead me to put 
 properties of land in order, while I am at variance witli myself? 
 
 " To speak it in a word ; the cixltivation of my individual self, here 
 as I am, has from my youth upwards been constantly thougli dimly 
 my wish and my purpose. The same intention I still cherish, but the 
 means of realizing it are now grown somewhat clearer. I have seen 
 more of Ufe than thou believest, and profited more by it also. Give
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER III. 21*7 
 
 some attention then to what I say, though it should not altogether 
 tally with thy own opinions. 
 
 ' ' Had I been a nobleman, our dispute would soon have been decided ; 
 but being a simple burgher, I must take a path of my own ; and 1 
 fear it may be ditficult to make thee understand me. I know not how 
 it is in foreign countries ; but in Germany, a universal, and if I may say 
 so, personal cultivation is beyond the reach of any one except a noble- 
 man. A burgher may acquire merit ; by excessive efforts he may even 
 educate his mind ; l)ut his personal qualities are lost, or worse than lost, 
 let him struggle as he will. Since the nobleman, frequenting the 
 society of the most polished, is compelled to give himself a polished 
 manner ; since this manner, neither door nor gate being shut against 
 him, grows at last an unconstrained one ; since, in court or camp, his 
 figure, his person, are a part of his possessions, and it may be the most 
 necessary part, — he has reason enough to put some value on them, 
 and to show that he puts some. A. certain stately grace in common 
 things, a sort of gay elegance in earnest and important ones, becomes 
 him well ; for it shows him to be everywhere in equilibrium. He is 
 a public person, and the more cultivated his movement;' the more 
 sonorous his voice, the more staid and measured his whole being is, 
 the more perfect is he. If to high and low, to friends and 'delations, 
 he continues still the same, then nathing can be said against him, 
 none may wish him otherwise. His coldness must be reckoned clear- 
 ness of head, his dissimulation prudence. If he can rule himself 
 externally at every moment of iiis life, no man has aught more to 
 demand of him ; and whatever else there may be in him or about 
 him, capacities, talents, wealth, all seem gifts of supererogation. 
 
 " Now imagine any burgher offering ever to pretend to these advan- 
 tages, he will utterly fail ; and the more completely, the greater 
 inclination and the more endowments nature may have given him for 
 that mode of being. 
 
 ' ' Since, in common life, the nobleman is hampered by no limits ; 
 since kings, or kinglike figures, do not differ from him, he can every- 
 where advance with a silent consciousness, as if before his equals, 
 everywhere he is entitled to press forward ; whereas nothing more 
 beseems the buigher than the quiet feeling of the limits tliat are 
 drawn round him. The burgher may not ask himself : ' What art 
 thou?' He can only ask : ' What liast thou '? What discernment, 
 knowledge, talent, wealth?' If the nobleman, merely by his personal 
 carriage, offers all that can be asked of him, the' burgher by his 
 personal carriage, offers nothing, and can offer nothing. The former 
 had a right to x- , m ; the latter js compelled to he, and what he aims 
 at seeming becomes ludicrous and tasteless. The former does and 
 makes, the latter but elfects and procures : he must cultivate some 
 siiigle gifts in ord^n- to Ije useful, and it is beforehand settled, that in 
 his manner of existence there is no harmony, and can be none, since 
 he is bound to make himself of use in one department, and so has 
 to relinquish all the others.
 
 218 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 " Perhaps the reason of this difference is not the usurpation of the 
 nobles, and the submission of the burghers, but the constitution of 
 society itself. Whether it will ever alter, and how, is to me of small 
 importance ; my present business is to meet my own case, as matters 
 actually stand ; to consider by what means I may save myself, and 
 reach the object which 1 cannot live in peace without. 
 
 " Now this harmonious cultivation of my nature, which has been 
 denied me by birth, is exactly what I most long for. Since leaving 
 thee, I have gained much by voluntary practice ; I have laid aside 
 much of my wonted embarrassment, and can bear myself in very 
 tolerable style. My speech and N'oice I have likewise been attending 
 to ; and I may say, without much vanity, that in society I do not cause 
 much displeasure. But 1 will not conceal from thee, that my inclina- 
 tion to become a public person, and to please and influence in a larger 
 circle, is daily growing more insuperable. With this, there is com- 
 bined my love for poetry and all that is related to it ; and the neces- 
 sity I feel to cultivate my mental faculties and tastes, that so, in this 
 enjoyment henceforth indispensable, I may esteem as good the good 
 alone, as beautiful the beautiful alone. Thou seest well, that for me 
 all this is nowhere to be met with except upon the stage : that in this 
 element alone can I effect and cultivate myself according to my wishesr 
 On the boards, a polished man appears in his splendor with personal 
 accomplishments, just as he does so in the upper classes of society ; 
 body and spirit must advance with equal steps.in all his studies ; and 
 there I shall have it in my power at once to be and seem, as well as 
 anywhere. If I farther long for solid occupations, we have the mechan- 
 ical vexations in abundance ; I may give my patience daily exercise. 
 
 " Dispute not with me on this subject ; for ere thou writest, the 
 .step is taken. In compliance with the ruling prejudices, I will change 
 my name, as indeed that of Meister or Master does not suit me. Fare- 
 well ! Our fortune is in good hands ; on that subject I shall not dis- 
 turb myself. What I need will, as occasion calls, require from thee ; 
 it will not be much ; for I hope my art will be sufficient to maintain 
 me." 
 
 Scarcely was the letter sent away, when our friend made good his 
 words. To the great surprise of Serlo and the rest, he at once 
 declared that he was ready to become an actor, and bind himself by 
 a contract on reasonable terms. With I'egard to these the}' were soon 
 agreed, for Serlo had before made offers, with which Wilhelm and 
 his comrades had good reason to be satisfied. The whole of that 
 unlucky company, wherewith we have had so long to occupy our- 
 selves, was now at once received ; and except perhaps Laertes, not a 
 member of it showed the smallest thankfulness to Wilhelm. As they 
 had entreated without confidence, so tliey accepted without gratitude. 
 Most of them ])referred as('ribing their ajjpointnu'ut to the influence 
 of Philina, and directed their thanks to her. Meanwhile the contracts 
 had l)een written out, and were now a-signing. At the moment when
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER IV. 219 
 
 our friend was subscribing his assumed designation, by some inex- 
 plicable concatenation of ideas, there arose before his mind's eye the 
 image of tliat green in the forest, where he lay wounded in Philina's 
 lap. The lovely Amazon came riding on her gray palfrey from the 
 bushes of the wood ; she approached him, and dismounted. Her 
 humane anxiety made her come and go ; at length she stood before 
 him. The white surtout fell down from her shoulders ; her counten- 
 ance, her form began to glance in radiance, and she vanished from 
 his sight. He wrote his name mechanically only, not knowing what 
 he did, and felt not. till after he had signed, that Mignon was stand- 
 ing at his side, was holding by his arm, and had softly tried to stop 
 him and pull back his hand. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 One of the conditions under which our friend had gone upon the 
 stage, was not acceded to by Serlo without some limitations. Wilhelm 
 had required that Hamlet should be played entire and unmutilated ; 
 the other had agreed to this strange stipulation, in so far as it w^s 
 possible. On this point they had many a contest ; for as to what was 
 possible or not possible, and what parts of the piece could be omitted 
 without mutilating it, the two were of very different opinions. 
 
 Wilhelm was still in that happy season, when one cannot under- 
 stand how, in the woman one loves, in the writer one honors, there 
 should be anything defective. The feeling they excite in us is so 
 entire, so accordant with itself, that we cannot help attributing the 
 same perfect harmony to the objects themselves. Serlo again was 
 willing to discriminate, perhaps too willing ; his acute understanding 
 could usually discern in any work of art nothing but a more or less 
 imperfect whole. He thought, that as pieces usually stood, there was 
 little reason to be chary about meddling with them ; that, of course, 
 Shakespeare, and particularly Hamlet, would need to suffer much 
 curtailment. 
 
 But when Serlo talked of separating the wheat from the chaff, 
 Wilhelm would not hear of it. "It is not chaff and wheat together," 
 said he ; "it is a trunk with boughs, twigs, leaves, buds, blossoms 
 and fruit. ;' Is not the one there with the others, and by means of 
 them'?"' T6 which Serlo would reply, that people did not bring a 
 whole tree upon the table ; that the artist was required to present his 
 guests with silver apples in platters of silver. They exhausted their 
 invention in similitudes, and their opinions seemed still farther to 
 diverge. 
 
 Our friend was on the borders of despair, when, on one occasion, 
 after much debating, Serlo counseled him to take the simple plan ;
 
 220 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 to makeu brief resolutiou, to grasp liis pen, to peruse tbe tragedy ; 
 dashing out whatever would not answer, compressing several person- 
 ages into one ; and if he was not skilled in such proceedings, or had 
 not heart enough for going through with them, he might leave the 
 task to him, the manager, who would engage to make short work 
 with it. 
 
 "That is not our bargain," answered Wilhelm. "How can you, 
 with all your taste, show so much levity V " 
 
 " My friend," cried Serlo, "you yourself will ere long feel it and 
 show it. I know too well how shocking such a mode of treating 
 works is ; perhaps it never was allowed on any theater till now. But 
 where indeed was ever one so slighted as ours? Authors force us on 
 this wretched clipping system, aud the public tolerates it. How 
 many pieces have we, pray, which do not overstep the measure of 
 our numbers, of our decorations and theatrical machinery, of the 
 proper time, of the fit alternation of dialogue, and the physical 
 strength of the actor"? Aud yet we are to play, and play, and con- 
 stantly give novelties. Ought we not to profit by our privilege then, 
 since we accomplish just as much by mutilated works as by^ntire 
 ones'? It is the public itself that grants tlie privilege. Few GFer- 
 mans, perhaps few men of any modern nation, have a proper sense of 
 an aesthetic whole ; they praise and blame by passages ; they are 
 charmed by passages ; and who has greater reason to rejoice at this 
 than actors, since th^stage is ever but a patched and piecework 
 matter?"; 
 
 " Is ! " cried Wilhelm ; " but must it ever be so? Must everything 
 that is continue ? Convince me not that you are right ; for no power 
 on earth should force me to abide by any contract which I had con- 
 cluded with the grossest misconceptions." 
 
 Serlo gave a merry turn to the business ; aud persuaded Wilhelm 
 to review once more the many conversations they had had together 
 about Hairnet ; and himself to invent some means of properly reform- 
 ing the piece. 
 
 After a few days, which he had spent alone, our friend returned 
 with a cheerful look. "I am much mistaken," cried he, " if I have 
 not now discovered how the whole is to be managed : nay, I am con- 
 vinced that Shakespeare himself would have arranged it so, Lad not 
 his mind been too exclusively directed to the ruling interest, and 
 perhaps misled by the novels, which furnished him with his mate- 
 rials." 
 
 " Let us hear," said Serlo, placing himself with an air of solemnity 
 upon the sofa ; " I will listen calmly ; but judge with rigor." 
 
 " I am not afraid of you," said Wilhelm ; "only hear me. In the 
 composition of this play, after the most,.accurate investigation and 
 the most mature reflection, I distinguisli(two classic's of objects. \ The 
 first are the grand internal rclatitjus of the persons and eVenW, the 
 powerful effects which arise from the character.s and proceedings of
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER IV. 221 
 
 the main figures : these, I hold, are individually excellent, and the 
 order in which they are presented cannot be improved. No kind of 
 interference must be sufEered to destroy them, or even essentially to 
 change their form. These are the 'things which stamp themselves 
 deep into the soul ; which all men long to see, which no one dares to 
 meddle with. Accordingly, I understand, they have almost wholly 
 been retained in all our (iermau theaters. But our countrymen have 
 erred, in my opinion, with regard to the second class of objects, whicli 
 may be observed in this tragedy ; I allude to the external relations of 
 the persons, whereby they are brought from place to place, or com- 
 bined in various ways by certain accidental incidents. These they 
 have looked upon as very unimportant ; have spoken of them only in 
 passing, or left them out altogether. Now, indeed, it must be owned, 
 these threads are slack and slender ; yet they run through the 
 entire piece, and bind together much that would otherwise fall asun- 
 der, and does actually fall asunder, when you cut them off, and 
 imagine you have done enough and more, if you have left the ends 
 hanging. 
 
 "Among these external relations I include the disturbances ini 
 Norway, the war with young Fortinbras, the embassy to his uncle, 
 the settling of that feud, the march of young Fortinbras to Poland, 
 and his coming back at the end ; of the same sort are Horatio's return 
 from Wittenberg, Hamlet's wish to go thither the journey of Laertes 
 to France, his return, the dispatch of Hamlet into England, his cap- 
 ture by pirates, the death of the two courtiers by the letter which 
 they carried. All the.se circumstances and events would be very fit 
 for expanding and lengthening a novel ; but here they injure exceed- 
 ingly the unity of the piece, particularly as the hero has no plan, and 
 are in consequence entirely out of place." 
 
 "For once in the right ! " cried Serlo. 
 
 "Do not interrupt me," answered Wilhelm ; "perhaps you will 
 not always think me right, These errors are like temporary props 
 of an edifice ; they must not be removed till we have built a firm wall 
 in their stead. My project therefore is, not at all to change those 
 first-mentioned grand situations, or at least as much as possible to 
 spare them, both collectively and individually ; but with respect to 
 these external, single, dissipated and dissipating motives, to cast them 
 all at once away, and suhstitute a solitary one instead of them." 
 
 '*And this?" inquired Serlo, springing up from his recumbent 
 posture. 
 
 " It lies in the piece itself," answered Wilhelm. " only I employ it 
 rightly. There are disturbances in Norway. You shall hear my 
 plan, and try it. 
 
 "After the death of Hamlet the father, the Norwegians, lately 
 conquered, grow unruly. The viceroy of that country sends his son, 
 Horatio, an old school friend of Hamlet's, and distinguished above 
 every other for his bravery and prudence, to Denmark, to press for-
 
 222 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 ward the eciuipiuent of the fleet, whicli, imder the new luxurious 
 king, proceeds but slowly. Horatio has known the former king, 
 having fought in his battles, having even stood in favor with him ; a 
 circumstance by which the first ghost scene will be nothing injured. 
 The new sovereign gives Horatio audience, and sends Laertes into 
 Norway with intelligence that the fleet will soon arrive, whilst Horatio 
 is commissioned to accelerate the preparation of it ; and the queen, 
 on the other hand, will not consent that Hamlet, as he wishes, should 
 go to sea along with him." 
 
 " Heaven be praised ! " cried Serlo ; " we shall now get rid of Wit- 
 tenberg and the university, which was always a sorry piece of busi- 
 ness. I think your idea extremely good ; for except these two dis- 
 tant objects, Norway and the fleet, the spectator will not be required 
 to fancy anything : the rest he will see ; the rest takes place before 
 him ; whereas his imagination, on the other plan, was hunted over 
 all the world." 
 
 "You easily perceive," said Wilhelm, "how I shall contrive to 
 keep the other parts together. When Hamlet tells Horatio of his 
 uncle's crime, Horatio counsels him to go to Norway in his company, 
 to secure the affections of the army, and return in warlike force. 
 Hamlet also is becoming dangerous to the king and queen ; they find 
 no readier method of deliverance than to send him in the fleet, with 
 Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to be spies upon him ; and as Laertes 
 in the meantime comes from France, they determine that this youth, 
 exasperated even to murder, shall go after him. Unfavorable winds 
 detain the fleet ; Hamlet returns ; for his wandering through the 
 churchyard perhaps some lucky motive may be thought of ; his meet- 
 ing with Laertes in Ophelia's grave is a grand moment, which we 
 must not part with. After this, the king resolves that it is better to 
 get quit of Hamlet on the spot : the festival of his departure, the 
 pretended reconcilement with Laertes, are now solemnized ; on which 
 occasion knightly sports are held, and Laertes fights with Hamlet. 
 Without the four corpses I cannot end the piece ; not one of them 
 can possibly be left. The right of popular election now again conies 
 in force, and Hamlet gives his dying voice for Horatio." 
 
 "Quick! quick!" said Serlo; "sit down and work the piece: 
 your plan has my entire approbation ; only do not let your zeal for it 
 evaporate,"
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER V. 223 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WiLHELM had already been for some time busied with translating 
 Hamlet ; making use, as he labored, of Wieland's spirited perform- 
 ance, by means of which he had first become acquainted with Shake- 
 speare. What in Wieland s work had been omitted he replaced ; 
 and he had at length procured himself a complete version, at the very 
 time when Serlo and he finally agreed about the way of treating it. 
 He now began, according to his plan, to cut out and insert, to sepa- 
 rate and unite, to alter and often to restore ; for, satisfied as he was 
 with his own conception, it still appeared to him as if in executing 
 it he were but spoiling the original. 
 
 So soon as all was finished, he read his work to Serlo and the rest. 
 They declared themselves exceedingly contented with it ; Serlo, in 
 particular, made many flattering observations. 
 
 "You have felt very justly," said he, among other things, "that 
 some external circumstances must accompany this piece ; but that 
 they must be simpler than those which the great poet has employed. 
 What takes place without the theater, what the spectator does not 
 see, but must imagine for himself, is like a background, in front of 
 which the acting figures move. Your large and simple prospect of 
 .the fleet and Norway will very much improve the piece : if this were ^ 
 altogether taken from it, we should have but a family scene remain- 
 ing ; and the great idea, that here a kingly house by internal crimes 
 and incongruities goes down to ruin, would not be presented with its 
 proper dignity. But if the former background were left standing, so 
 manifold, so fluctuating and confused, it would hurt the impression 
 of the figures." 
 
 Wilhelm again took Skakespeare's part ; alleging that he wrote 
 for islanders, for Englishmen, who generally in the distance were ' 
 accustomed to see little else than ships and voyages, the coasts of 
 France and privateers ; and thus what perplexed and distracted 
 others, was to them quite natural. 
 
 Serlo assented ; and both of them were of opinion, that as the 
 piece was now to be produced upon the German stage, this more seri- 
 ous and simple background was the best adapted for the German 
 mind. 
 
 The parts had been distributed before : Serlo undertook Polonius ; 
 Aurelia undertook Ophelia ; Laertes was already designated by his 
 name ; a young, thickset, jolly new-comer was to be Horatio : the 
 king and the ghost alone occasioned some perplexity. For both of 
 these there was no one but Old Boisterous remaining. Serlo proposed 
 to make the pedant king ; but against this our friend protested in 
 the stronge.st terms. Tlaey could resolve on nothing.
 
 824 MEISTER'8 APPBENflCESmP. 
 
 Wilhelm also had allowed both Rosencrantz and Guildenstern td 
 continue in bis piece. " Wby not compress tbem in one?" said 
 Serlo. " Tbis abbreviation will not cost you niucli." 
 
 " Heaven keep me from all such curtailments ! " answered Wilbelm, 
 " tbey destroy at once the sense and the effect. Wbat these two 
 persons are and do, it is impossible to represent by one. In such 
 small matters we discover Shakespeare's greatness. The soft ap- 
 proaches, this smirking and bowing, this assenting, wheedling, 
 flattering, this whisking agility, this wagging of tlie"tail, this allness 
 and emptiness, this legal knavery, this ineptitude and insipidity, — 
 how can they be expressed by a single man ? There ought to be at 
 least a dozen of these people, if they could be had : for it is only in 
 society that they are anything ; they are society itself ; and Shake- 
 speare showed no little wisdom and discernment in bringing in a pair 
 of them. Besides, I need them as a couple that may be contrasted 
 with the single, noble, excellent Horatio." 
 
 " T understand you," answered Serlo, " and we can arrange it. One 
 of them we shall hand over to Elmira, Old Boisterous's eldest 
 daughter ; it will all be right, if they look well enough, and I will 
 deck and trim the puppets so that it shall be a pleasure to behold 
 them." 
 
 Philina was rejoicing not a little that she had to act the Duchess in 
 the small subordinate play. " I will show it so natural," cried she, 
 " how you wed a second without loss of time, when you have loved 
 the first immensely. I hope to gain the loudest plaudits, and every 
 man shall wish he were the third." 
 
 x\urelia gave a frown ; her spleen against Philina was increasing 
 every day. 
 
 " 'Tis a pity, I declare," said Serlo, " that we have no ballet ; else 
 you should dance me a pas de deux with your first, and then another 
 with your second husband, — and the first might dance himself to 
 sleep by the measure ; and your bits of feet and ankles would look so 
 pretty, tripping to and fro upon the side stage." 
 
 " Of my ankles you do not know much," replied she snapynshly ; 
 "and as "to my bits of feet," cried she, hastily reaching below the 
 table, pulling off her slippers, and holding them together out to 
 Serlo : " here are the cases of them, and I give you leave to find me 
 nicer ones." 
 
 " It were a serious task," said he, looking at the elegant half -shoes. 
 " In truth, one does not often meet with anything so dainty." 
 
 They were of Parisian workmanship ; Plulina had obtained them 
 as a present from the countess, a lady whose foot was celebrated for 
 its beauty. 
 
 " A charming thing 1" cried Serlo ; " my heart leaps at the sight 
 of them." 
 
 " What gallant throbs I " replied Philina. 
 
 "There is nothing in the world beyond a pair of slippers," said
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER VL 22t) 
 
 iie ; " of sucii pretty manufacture, in tlieir proper time arid place, 
 when " 
 
 Pbiliua took her slippers from his hands, crying, "You have 
 squeezed them all ! They are far too wide for me ! " She played 
 with them, and rubbed the soles of them together. " How hot it 
 is ! " cried she, clapping the sole upon her cheek, then again rubbing, 
 and holding it to Serlo. He was innocent enough to stretch out 
 his hand to feel the warmth. "Clip ! clap ! " cried she, giving him 
 a smart rap over the knuckles with the heel, so that he screamed 
 and drew back his hand ; " I will teach you to use my slippers bet- 
 ter. " 
 
 " And I will teach you to use old folk like children," cried the 
 other ; then sprang up, seized her, and plundered many a kiss, every 
 one of which she artfully contested with a show of serious reluctance. 
 In this romping, her long hair got loose, and floated round the group ; 
 the chair overset ; and Aurelia, inwardly indignant at such rioting, 
 arose in great vexation. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Though in this remolding of Hamlet many characters had been 
 cut off, a sufficient number of them still remained ; a number which 
 the company was scarcely adequate to meet. 
 
 " If this is the way of it," said Serlo, "our prompter himself must 
 issue from his den, and mount the stage, and become a personage 
 like one of us." 
 
 " In his own station," answered Wilhelm, " I have frequently 
 admired him." 
 
 "I do not think," said Serlo, "that there is in the world a more 
 perfect artist of his kind. No spectator ever hears him ; we upon 
 the stage catch every syllable. He has formed in himself, as it were, 
 a peculiar set of vocal organs for this purpose ; he is like a genius 
 that whispers intelligibly to us in the hour of need. He feels as if 
 by instinct what portion of his task an actor is completely master of ; 
 and anticipates from afar where his memory will fail him. I have 
 known cases, in which I myself had scarcely read my part ; he said 
 it over to me word for word, and I played happily. Yet he has some 
 peculiarities, which would make another in his place quite useless. 
 For example, he takes such an interest in the pieces, that in giving 
 any moving passage, he does not indeed declaim it, but he reads it 
 with all pomp and pathos. By this ill habit he has nonplussed me 
 on more than one occasion." 
 
 " As with another of his singularities," observed Aurelia. "he once 
 left me sticking fast in a very dangerous passage. " 
 Meister — 8
 
 226 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 " How coiild this happen, with the man's attentiveness ? " said Wil- 
 helm. 
 
 "He is so aifected," said Aurelia, "by certain passages, that he 
 weeps warm tears, and for a few moments h)ses all reflection ; and it 
 is not properly passages such as we should call affecting that produce 
 this impression on him ; but, if I express myself clearly, the beauti- 
 ful passages, those out of wliich the pure spirit of the poet looks 
 forth, as it were, through open sparkling eyes ; passages which others 
 at most rejoice over, and which many thousands altogether overlook." 
 
 " And with a soul so tender, why does he never venture on the 
 stage ? " 
 
 "A hoarse voice," said Serlo, "and a stiff carriage exclude him 
 from it ; as his melancholic temper excludes him from society. What 
 trouble have I taken, and in vain, to make myself familiar with him ! 
 But he is a charming reader ; such another I have never heard ; no 
 one can observe like him the narrow limit between declamation and 
 graceful recital." 
 
 " The very nian ! " exclaimed our friend, "the very man ! What 
 a fortunate discovery ! We have now the proper hand for delivering 
 the passage of ' The rugged Pyrrhus !' " 
 
 ' ' One requires your eagerness, " said Serlo, ' ' before one can employ 
 every object in the use it was meant for." 
 
 " In truth," said Willielm, " I was very much afraid we should be 
 obliged to leave this passage out ; the omission would have lamed the 
 whole play." 
 
 ' ' Well ! That is what I cannot understand, " observed Aurelia. 
 
 " I hope you may ere long be of my opinion," answered Wilhelm. 
 " Shakespeare has introduced these traveling players with a double 
 purpose. The person who recites the death of Priam with such feel- 
 ing, in the first place, makes a deep impression on the prince himself ; 
 he sharpens the conscience of the Avavering youth : and, accordingly, 
 this scene becomes a prelude to that other, where, in the second place, 
 the little play produces such effect upon the King. Hamlet sees him- 
 self reproved and put to shame by the player, who feels so deep a 
 sympathy in foreign and fictitious woes : and the thought of making 
 an experiment upon the conscience of his stepfather is in consequence 
 suggested to him. What a royal monologue is that, which ends the 
 second act ! Hoav charming it will be to speak it ! 
 
 O what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! 
 Is it not monstrous tnat this plaj-er here. 
 But in a fiction, in a dreum of jjassion, 
 Could force his soul so to his <j\vn conceit, 
 That from her working all his visage wann'd ; 
 Tears in his eyes, distraction in his aspect, 
 A liroken voice, and his whole function suiting 
 With forms to his conceit ? And all for nothing J 
 For Hecuba I What's Hecuba to him, 
 * Or he to Hecuba, that he should weep for her t
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER VI 227 
 
 " If we can but persuade our man to come upon the stage," observed 
 " Aurelia. 
 
 "We must lead him to it by degrees," said Serlo. "At the re- 
 hearsal, he may read the passage ; we shall tell him that an actor 
 whom we are expectiug is to play it ; and so, by and by, we shall 
 lead him nearer to the point. " 
 
 Having agreed on this affair, the conversation next turned upon the 
 Ghost. Wilhelm could not bring himself to give the part of the 
 living King to the pedant, that so Old Boisterous might play the 
 Ghost ; he was of opinion that they ought to wait a while ; because 
 some other actors had announced themselves, and among these it was 
 probable they would find a fitter man. 
 
 We can easily conceive, then, how astonished Wilhelm must have 
 been, when returning home that evening, he found a billet lying on 
 his table, sealed with singular figures, and containing what follows : 
 
 " Strange youth ! we know thou art in great perplexity. For thy 
 Hamlet thou canst hardly find men enough, not to speak of ghosts. 
 Thy zeal deserves a miracle : miracles we cannot work ; but some- 
 what marvelous shall happen. If thou liave faith, the Ghost shall 
 arise at the proper hour ! Be of courage and keep firm ! This needs 
 no answer : thy determination will be known to us." 
 
 With this curious slieet he liastened back to Serlo, who read it and 
 re-read it, and at last declared with a thoughtful look, that it seemed 
 a matter of some moment ; that they must consider well and seriously 
 whether they could risk it. They talked the subject over at some 
 length ; Aurelia was silent, only smiling now and then ; and a few 
 days after, when speaking of the incident again, she gave our friend, 
 not obscurely, to understand, that she held it all for a joke of Serlo's. 
 She desired him to ca.st away anxiety, and to expect the Ghost with 
 patience. 
 
 Serlo, for most part, was in excellent humor : the actors that were 
 going to leave liim took all possible pains to play well, that their 
 absence might be properly regretted ; and this, combined with the 
 new-fangled zeal of the others, gave promise of the best results. 
 
 His intercourse with Wilhelm had not failed to exert some influ- 
 ence on him. He began to speak more abovit art : for, after all, he 
 was a German ; and Germans like to give themselves account of what 
 they do. Wilhelm wrote down many of their conversations ; which, 
 as our narrative must not be so often interrupted here, we shall com- 
 municate to such of our readers as feel an interest in dramaturgic 
 matters, by some other opportunity. 
 
 In particular, one evening, the manager was very merry in speak- 
 ing of the part of Polonius, and how he meant to take it up. " I 
 engage," said he, "on this occasion, to present a very meritorious 
 person in his best aspect. The repose and security of this old gen- 
 tleman, his emptiness and his significance, his exterior gracefulness 
 g,nd interior meanness, his frankness and sycophancy, his sincere
 
 338 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 roguery and deceitful truth, I will introduce with all due elegance 
 in their fit proportions. This respectable, gray-haired, enduring, 
 time-serving half -knave I will represent in the most courtly style : 
 the occasional roughness and coarseness of our author's strokes will 
 further me here. I will speak like a book, when I am prepared 
 beforehand ; and like an ass, when I utter the overflowings of my 
 heart. I will be insipid and absurd enough to chime in with every 
 one ; and acute enough never to observe when people make a mock 
 of me. I have seldom taken up a part with so much zeal and 
 roguishness." 
 
 " Could I but hope as much from mine ! " exclaimed Aurelia. " I 
 have neither youth nor softness enough to be at home in this char- 
 acter. One thing alone I am too sure of ; the feeling that turns 
 Ophelia's braiu, I shall not want." 
 
 " We must not take the matter up so strictly," said our friend. 
 " For my sliai'e I am certain that the wish to act the character of 
 Hamlet has led me exceedingly astray, throughout my study of the 
 piece. And now the more I look into the part, the more clearly do I 
 see, that in my whole form and physiognomy, there is not one feature 
 such as Shakespeare meant for Hamlet, When I consider with what 
 nicety the various circumstances are adapted for each other, I can 
 scarcely hope to produce even a tolerable effect.'' 
 
 " You are entering on your new career with becoming conscien- 
 tiousness," said Serlo. " The actor fits himself to his part as he can, 
 and the part to him as it must. But how has Shakespeare drawn 
 his Hamlet ? Is he then so utterly unlike you ? " 
 
 " In the first place," answered Wilhelm, " he is fair-haired." 
 
 " That I call far-fetched," observed Aurelia. " How do you infer 
 that ? " 
 
 " As a Dane, as a Northman, he is fair-haired and blue-eyed by 
 descent." 
 
 " And you think Shakespeare had this in view?" 
 
 " I do not find it specially expressed ; but, by comparison of pas- 
 sages, I tliink it incontestable. The fencing tires him ; the sweat is 
 running from his brow ; and the Queen remarks : ' He's fat and scant 
 of breath.' Can you conceive him to be otherwise than plump and 
 fair-haired ? Brown-complexioned people in their youth are seldom 
 plump. And does not his wavering melancholy, his soft lamenting, 
 his irresolute activity, accord with such a figure'? From a dark- 
 haired young man you would look for more decision and impetuosity." 
 
 "You are spoiling my imagination," cried Aurelia; " away with 
 your fat Hamlets ! Do not set your well-fed prince before us ! Give 
 us rather any succedaneum that will move us, will delight us. The 
 intention of the author is of less importance to us than our own 
 enjoyment, and we need a charm that is adapted for us."
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER VIL 329 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 One evening a dispute arose among our friends about the novel and 
 the drama, and whicli of them deserved the preference. Serlo said it 
 was a fruitless and misunderstood debate ; both might be superior in 
 their kinds, only each must keep within the limits proper to it. 
 
 " About their limits and their kind," said Wilhelm, " I confess my- 
 self not altogether clear." 
 
 "Who is so?" said the other; "and yet perhaps it were worth 
 while to come a little closer to the business." 
 
 They conversed together long upon the matter ; and in fine, the 
 folloiving wiis nearly the result of their discussion : 
 
 "In the novel as well as in the drama, it is human nature and 
 human action that we see. The difference between these sorts of fic- 
 tion lies not merely in their outward form ; not merely in the circum- 
 stance that the personages of the one are made to speak, while those 
 of the other have cotnmonly their history narrated. Unfortunately 
 many dramas are but novels, which proceed by dialogue ; and it would 
 not be impossible to write a drama in the shape of letters. 
 
 " But in the novel, it is chiefiy sentiments and events th&i are exhib- 
 ited ; in the drama, it is cJiarncters and deeds. The novel must go 
 slowly forward ; and the sentiments of the hero, by some means or 
 another, must restrain the tendency of the whole to unfold itself and 
 to conclude. The drama, on the other hand, must hasten, and the 
 character of the hero must press forward to the end ; it does not 
 restrain but is restrained. The novel-hero must be suffering, at least 
 he must not in a high degree be active ; in the dramatic one, we look 
 for activity and deeds. Grandison, Clarissa, Painela, the Vicar of 
 Wakefield, Tom Jones himself, are, if not suffering, at least retard- 
 ing personages ; and the incidents are all in some sort modeled by 
 their sentiments. In the drama the hero models nothing by himself ; 
 all things withstand him, and he clears and casts away the hindrances 
 from off his path, or else sinks under them." 
 
 Our friends were also of opinion, that in the novel some degree of 
 scope may be allowed to chance ; but that it must always be led and 
 guided by the sentiments of the personages ; on the other hand, that 
 fate, which, by means of outward unconnected circumstances, carries 
 fonvard men, without their own concurrence, to an unforeseen catas- 
 trophe, can have i)lace only in the drama ; that chance may produce 
 pathetic situations, but never tragic ones ; fate, on the other hand, 
 ought always to be terrible ; and is in the highest sense tragic, when 
 it brings into a ruinous concatenation the guilty man, and the guilt- 
 less that was unconcerned with him. 
 
 These considerations led them back to the play of Hamlet, and the
 
 230 MEISTBR'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 peculiarities of its composition. The hero in this case, it was observed, 
 is endovved more properly with sentiments than with a character ; it 
 is events alone that push him on ; and accordingly the piece has in 
 some measure the expansion of a novel. But as it is fate that draws 
 the plan ; as the story issues from a dread of terror, and the hero is 
 continually driven forward to a deed of terror, the work is tragic 
 in the highest sense, and admits of no other than a tragic end. 
 
 They were now to study and peruse the piece in common ; to com- 
 mence what are called the book-rehearsals. These Wilhelm had looked 
 forward to as a festival. Having formerly collated all the parts, no 
 obstacle on tliis side could oppose him. The whole of the actors were 
 acquainted with the piece ; he endeavored to impress their minds 
 with the importance of these book rehearsals. " As you require," 
 said he, " of every musical performer, that he shall, in some degree, 
 be able to play from the book ; so every actor, every educated man, 
 sh«uld train himself to recite from the book, to catch immediately the 
 character of any drama, anj- poem, any tale he may have been reading, 
 and exhibit it with grace and readiness. No committing of the piece 
 to memory will be of service, if the actor have not in the first place 
 penetrated into the sense and spirit of his author ; the mere letter 
 will avail him nothing." 
 
 Serlo declared, that he would overlook all subsequent rehearsals, 
 the last rehearsal itself, if justice were but done to these rehearsals 
 from the book. " For commonly," said he, " there is nothing more 
 amusing than to hear an actor speak of study ; it is as if Freemasons 
 were to talk of buildings." 
 
 The rehearsal passed according to their wishes ; and we may assert, 
 that the fame and favor which our company acquired afterwards, had 
 their foundation in these few but well-spent hours. 
 
 "You did right,. my friend," said Serlo, when they were alone, 
 "in speaking to our fellow-laborers so earnestly ; and yet I am afraid 
 they will scarcely fulfill your wishes." 
 
 " How so?" asked Wilhelm. 
 
 " I have noticed," answered Serlo, " that as easily as you may set 
 in motion the imaginations of men, gladly as they listen to your tales 
 and fictions, it is yet very seldom that you find among them any touch 
 of an imagination you can call productive. In actors this remark is 
 strikingly exemplified. Any one of them is well content to xinder- 
 take a beautiful, praiseworthy, brilliant part ; and seldom will any 
 one of them do more than self-complacently transport himself into 
 his hero's place, without in the smallest troubling his head whether 
 other people view him so or not. But to seize with vivacity what the 
 author's feeling was in writing ; what portion of your individual 
 qualities you must cast off, in order to do justice to a part ; how by 
 your own conviction that you are become another man, you may carry 
 with you the convictions of the audience ; how by the inward truth 
 of your conceptive power, you can change these boards into a temple,
 
 BOOK V. GBAPTEB VIII 231 
 
 this pasteboard into woods ; to seize and execute all this is given to 
 very few. That internal strength of soul, by which alone deception 
 can be brought about ; that lying truth, without which nothing will 
 aliect us rightly, have by most men never even been imagined. 
 ■ " Let us not then press too hard for spirit and feeling in our 
 friends ! The surest way is first coolly to instruct them in the sense 
 and letter of the piece ; if possible, to open their understandings. 
 Whoever has the talent will then, of his own accord, eagerly adopt 
 the spirited feeling and manner of expression ; and those who have it 
 not, will at least be prevented from acting or reciting altogether falsely. 
 And among actors, as indeed in all cases, there is no worse arrangement 
 than for any one to make pretensions to the spirit of a thing, wliile 
 the sense and letter of it are not ready and clear to him." 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Coming to the first stage rehearsal very early, Wilhelm found him- 
 self alone upon the boards. The appearance of the place surprised 
 him, and awoke the strangest recollections. A forest and village 
 scene stood exactly represented as he once had seen it in the theater 
 of his native town. On that occasion also, a rehearsal was proceed- 
 ing ; and it was the morning when Mariana first confessed her love 
 to him, and promised him a happy interview. The peasants' cottages 
 resembled one another on the two stages, as they did in nature ; the 
 true morning sun, beaming through a half-closed window-shutter, 
 fell upon a part of a bench ill-joined to a cottage door ; but unhap- 
 pily it did not now .enlighten Mariana's waist and bosom. He sat 
 down, reflecting on this strange coincidence : he almost thought that 
 perhaps on this very spot he would soon see her again. And alas ! 
 the truth was nothing more, than that an after-piece to which this 
 scene belonged was at that time very often played upon the German 
 stage. 
 
 Out of these meditations he was roused by the other actors ; along 
 with whom two amateurs, frequenters of the wardrobe and the stage, 
 came in, and saluted Wilhelm with a show of great enthusiasm. One 
 of these was in some degree attached to Frau Melina ;but the other 
 was entirely a pure friend of art ; and both were of the kind which a 
 good company should always wish to have about it. It was diflficult 
 to say whether their love for the stage or their knowledge of it was 
 the greater. They loved it too much to know it perfectly ; they 
 knew it well enough to prize the good, and to discard the bad. But 
 their inclination being so powerful, they could tolerate the mediocre : 
 and the glorious joy which they experienced from the foretaste and 
 the aftertaste of excellence, surpassed expression. The mechanical
 
 232 MEISTEH'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 department gave them pleasure, tlie intellectual charmed them ; aud 
 so strong was their susceptibility, that even a discontinuous rehearsal 
 afforded them a species of illusion. Deficiencies appeared in their 
 eyes to fade away in distance ; the successful touched them like an 
 object near at hand. In a word, they were judges such as every 
 artist wishes in his own department. Their favorite movement was 
 from the side scenes to the pit, and from the pit to the side scenes ; 
 their happiest place was in the wardrobe ; their busiest employment 
 was in trying to improve the dress, position, recitation, gesture of the 
 actor ; their liveliest conversation was on the effect produced by him ; 
 their most constant effort was to keep him accurate, active and atten- 
 tive, to do him service or kindness, and, without squandering, to pro- 
 cure for the company a series of enjoyments. The two had obtained 
 the exclusive privilege of being present on the stage at rehearsals as 
 well as exhibitions. In regard to Hamlet, they had not in all points 
 agreed with Wilhelm ; liere and there he had yielded ; but for most 
 part he had stood by his opinion ; and, upon the whole, these discus- 
 sions had been very useful in the forming of his taste. He showed 
 both gentleman how much he valued them ; and they again predicted 
 nothing less, from these combined endeavors, than a new epoch for 
 tlie German theater. 
 
 The presence of these persons was of great service during the 
 rehearsals. In particular, they labored to convince our players that, 
 throughout the whole of their preparations, the posture and action, 
 as they were intended ultimately to appear, should always be com- 
 bined with the words, and thus the whole be mechanically united by 
 habit. In rehearsing a tragedy especially, they said, no common 
 movement with the hands should be allowed : a tragic actor that took 
 snuff in the rehearsal always frightened them ; for, in all probability, 
 on coming to the same passage in the exhibition he would miss his 
 pinch. Nay, on the same principles, they maintained that no one 
 should rehearse in boots, if his part were to be played in shoes. But 
 nothing, they declared, afflicted them so much as when the women, 
 in rehearsing, struck their hands into the folds of ther gowns. 
 
 By the persuasion of our friends, another very good effect was 
 brought about ; the actors all began to learn the use of arms. Since 
 military parts occur so frequently, said they, can anything look more 
 absurd than men without the smallest particle of discipline, trolling 
 about the stage in captains' and majors' uniforms? 
 
 Wilhelm and Laertes were the first that took lessons of a subaltern : 
 they continued their practicing of fence with the greatest zeal. 
 
 Such pains did our two amateurs give themselves for perfecting a 
 company, which had so fortunately come together. They were thus 
 providing for the future satisfaction of the public, while the public 
 was usually laughing at their taste. People did not know what 
 gratitude they owed our friends ; ])articularly for ])erf()rniing one 
 service, the service of frequc-.iTly inijin'ssing on the actor the funda-
 
 BOOK V. CHAP T KB IX. 233 
 
 mental point, tliat it was his duty to speak so loud as to be heard. 
 In this simple matter, they experienced more opposition and repug- 
 nance than could have been expected. Most part maintained that 
 they were heard well enough already ; some laid the blame upon the 
 building ; others said, one could not yell and bellow, when one had 
 to speak naturally, secretly, or tenderly. 
 
 Our two friends having an immeasurable stock of patience, tried 
 every means of undoing this delusion, of getting round this obstinate 
 self-will. They spared neither arguments nor flatteries ; and at last 
 they reached tlieir object, being aided not a little by the good exam- 
 ple of Wilhelm. By him they were requested to sit down in the 
 remotest corners of the house ; and every time they did not hear him 
 perfectly, to rap on the bench with a key. He articulated well, spoke 
 out in a measured manner, raised his tones gradually, and did not 
 overcry himself in the most vehement passages. The rapping of the 
 key was heard less and less every new rehearsal : by and by the rest 
 submitted to the same operation ; and at last it seemed rational to 
 hope, that the piece would be heard by every one in all the nooks of 
 the house. 
 
 From this example, we may see how desirous people are to reach 
 their object in their own way ; what need there often is of enforcing 
 on them truths which are self-evident ; and how difficult it may be to 
 reduce the man, who aims at effecting something, to admit the pri- 
 mary conditions under which alone his enterprise is possible. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The necessary preparations for scenery and dresses, and whatever 
 else was requisite, were now proceeding. In regard to certain scenes 
 and passages, our friend had whims of his own, which Serlo humored, 
 partly in consideration of their bargain, partlj^ from conviction, and 
 because he hoped by these civilities to gain Wilhelm, and to lead him 
 according to his own purposes the more implicitly in time to come. 
 
 Thus, for example, the King and Queen were, at the first audience, 
 to appear sitting on the throne, with the courtiers at the sides, and 
 Hamlet standing undistinguished in the crowd. " Hamlet," said he, 
 " must keep himself quiet ; his sable dress will sufficiently point him 
 out. He should rather shun remark than seek it. Not till the audi- 
 ence is ended, and the King speaks with him as with a son, should he 
 advance,' and allow the scene to take its course. " 
 
 A formidable obstacle still remained, in regard to the two pictures, 
 which Hamlet so passionately refers to in the scene with his mother. 
 " We ought," said Wilhelm, "to have both of them visible, at full 
 length, in the bottom of the chamber, near the main door ; and the
 
 334 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. \ 
 
 former King must be clad in armor, like the Ghost, and hang at the 
 side where it enters. I could wish that the figure held its right hand 
 in a commanding attitude ; were somewhat turned away ; and as it 
 were looked over its shoulder, that so it might perfectly resemble the. 
 Ghost at the moment when he issues from the door. It will produce 
 a great effect, when at this instant Hamlet looks upon the Ghost, and 
 the Queen upon the picture. The stepfather may be painted in rovil 
 ornaments, but not so striking." 
 
 There were several other points of this sort, about which we sluill 
 perhaps elsewhere have opportunity to speak. 
 
 "Are you then inexorably bent on Hamlet's dying at the end?" 
 inquired Serlo. 
 
 "How can I keep him alive," said VVilhelm, "when the whole 
 piece is pressing him to death ? We gave already talked at large on 
 that matter." 
 
 " But the public wishes him to live." 
 
 " I will show the public any other complaisance ; but as to this, I 
 cannot. We often wish that some gallant useful man, who is dying 
 •of a chronic disease, might yet live longer. The family weep, and 
 conjure the physician, but he cannot stay him ; and no more than 
 this physician can withstand the necessity of nature, can we give 
 law to an acknowledged necessity of art. It is a false compliance 
 with the multitude, to raise in them emotions which they xcish, when 
 these are not emotions which they ought, to feel." 
 
 "Whoever pays the cash," said Serlo, "may require the ware 
 according to his liking. " •" 
 
 "Doubtless, in some degree," replied our friend; "but a great 
 public should be reverenced, not used as children are, when peddlers 
 wish to hook the money from them. By presenting excellence to 
 the people, you should gradually excite in them a taste and feeling 
 for the excellent ; and they will pay their money with double satis- 
 faction, when reason itself has nothing to object against this outlay.v 
 The public you may flatter, as you do a well-beloved child, to better, ^ 
 to enlighten it ; not as you do a pampered child of quality, to perpet^ 
 xuate the error you profit from." 
 
 In this manner, various other topics were discussed relating to the 
 question : What might still be changed in the piece, and what must 
 of necessity remain untouched? We shall not enter farther on those 
 points at present ; but perhaps at some future time we may admit 
 this altered Hamlet itself to such of our readers as feel any interest 
 in the subject.
 
 SOOK V. CHAPTER X. 235 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The main rehearsal was at length concluded ; it had lasted very 
 long. Serlo and Wilhelra still found much to care for : notwith- 
 standing all the time which had already been consumed in prepara- 
 tion, some highly necessary matters had been left to the very last 
 moment. 
 
 Thus, the pictures of the kings, for instance, were not ready ; and 
 the scene between Hamlet and his mother, from which so powerful 
 an effect was looked for, had a very helpless aspect, as the business 
 stood ; for neither Ghost nor painted image of him was at present 
 forthcoming. Serlo made a jest of this perplexity : " We should be 
 in a pretty scrape," said he, "if the Ghost were to decline appearing, 
 and the guard had nothing to fight with but the air, and our prompter 
 were .obliged to speak the spirit's part from the side scenes." 
 
 " We will not scare away our strange friend by unbelief," said 
 Wilhelm : "doubtless at the proper season he will come, and aston- 
 ish us as much as the spectators." 
 
 " Well, certainly," said Serlo, " I shall be a happy man to-morrow 
 night, when once this piece is fairly acted. It costs us more arrange- 
 ment than I dreamed of." 
 
 "But none of you," exclaimed Philina, "will be happier than I, 
 little as my part disturbs me. Really, to hear a single subject talked 
 of forever and forever, when, after all, there is nothing to come of it 
 beyond an exhibition which will be forgotten, like so many liundred 
 others, this is what I have not patience for. In Heaven's name, not 
 so many pros and cons ! The guests you entertain have always some- 
 thing to object against the dinner ; nay, if you could hear them talk 
 of it at home, they cannot understand how it was possible to undergo 
 so sad a business." 
 
 " Let me turn your illustration, pretty one, to my own advantage," 
 answered Wilhelm. "Consider how much must be done by art and 
 nature, by traffickers and tradesmen, before an entertainment can be 
 given, flow many years the stag must wander in the forest, the tish 
 in the river or the sea, before they can deserve to grace our table ! 
 And what cares and consultations with her cooks and servants has the 
 lady of the house submitted to ! Observe with what indifference the 
 people swallow the production of the distant vintager, the seaman 
 and the vintner, as if it were a thing of course. And ought these 
 men to cease from laboring, providing and preparing ; ought the mas- 
 ter of the house to cease from purchasing and laying up the fruit of 
 their exertions, because at last the enjoyment it.affords is transitory'? 
 But no enjoyment can be transitory ; the impression which it leaves- 
 is pemianent ; and what is done with diligence and effort, cnmmuni-
 
 236 MEISTER'8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 cates to the spectator a bidden force, of which we cannot say how far 
 its influence may reach." 
 
 " ' Tis all one to me," replied Philina ; " onlj' here again I may 
 observe that yon men are constantly at variance with yourselves. 
 With all this conscientious horror at curtailing Sliakespeare, you have 
 missed the finest thought there was in Hamlet ! " 
 
 " The finest ? " cried our friend. 
 
 "Certainly the finest," said Philina ; "the prince himself takes 
 pleasure in it." 
 
 "And it is?" inquired Serlo. 
 
 "If you wore' a wig," replied Philina, "I would pluck it very 
 coolly off you ; for 1 think you need to have your understanding 
 opened." 
 
 The rest began to tlunk what she could mean ; the conversation 
 paused. The party arose ; it was now grown late ; they seemed 
 about to separate. While they were standing in this undetermined 
 mood, Philina all at once struck up a song, with a very graceful, 
 pleasing tune : 
 
 Sing me not with such emotion 
 
 How the night so lonesome is ; 
 Pretty maids, Tve got a notion 
 
 It is the reverse of this. 
 
 For as wife and man are plighted, 
 
 And the better half the wife ; 
 So is night to day united. 
 
 Night's the better half of life. 
 
 Can you joy in bustling daytime, 
 
 Daj' when none can get his will f 
 It is good for work, for haytime, 
 
 For much other it is ill. 
 
 But when, in the nightly glooming, 
 
 Social lamp on table glows, 
 Face for faces dear illuming. 
 
 And such jest and joyauce goes ; 
 
 When the flery, pert young fellow. 
 
 Wont by day to run or ride, 
 Whispering now some tale would tell O — 
 
 All so gentle by your side ; 
 
 When the nightiniralo to lovers 
 
 Lovingly Iut souglct sings, 
 Which for exiles mid sad rovers _ 
 
 Like mere woe aud wailing rings : 
 
 With a heart how lightsome feeling 
 
 Do yc count the kindly clock. 
 Which, twelve times deliberate pealing, 
 
 Tells you none to night shall knock I 
 
 Therefore, on all fit occasions, 
 
 • Mark it, maidens, what I sii:„ , 
 Every day its own vexations. 
 
 And the night its joys will bring. 
 
 sing;
 
 mOK V. CHAPTER X. 237 
 
 Siie made a little courtesy on concluding, and Serlo gave a loud 
 " Bravo ! " She scuttled oflf, and left the room with a tee-hee of laugh- 
 ter. They heard her singing and skijjping as she went downstairs. 
 
 Serlo passed into another room ; Wilhelm bade Aurelia good-night, 
 but she continued looking at him for a few moments, and said : 
 
 " How I dislike that woman ! dislike her from my heart, and to 
 her very slightest qualities ! Those brown eyelashes, with lier fair 
 hair, which our brother thinks so charming, 1 cannot bear to look at ; 
 and that scar upon her brow has something in it so repulsive, so low 
 and base, that I could recoil ten paces every time I meet her. She 
 was lately telling, as a joke, that her father, when she was a child, 
 threw a plate at lier head, of which this is the mark. It is well 
 that she is marked in the eyes and brow, that those about her may be 
 on their guard." 
 
 Wilhelm made no answer, and Aurelia went on, apparently with 
 greater spleen : 
 
 " It is next to impossible to speak a friendly or civil word to her, 
 so deeply do I hate her, with all her wheedling. Would that we 
 were rid of her ? And you too, my friend, have a certain complaisance 
 for the creature, a way of acting towards her, that grieves me to the 
 soul ; an attention that borders on respect ; which, by Heaven ! she 
 does not merit." 
 
 " Whatever she may be," replied our friend, " I owe her thanks. 
 Her upbringing is to blame : to her natural character 1 would do 
 justice." 
 
 " Character ! " exclaimed Aurelia ; " and do you think such a crea- 
 ture has a character ? O you men ! It is so like you ! These are the 
 women you deserve ! " 
 
 " My friend, can you suspect me?" answered Wilhelm. "I will 
 give account of every minute I have spent beside her." 
 
 "Come, come," replied Aurelia; "it is late, we will not quarrel. 
 All like each, and each like all ! Good-night, my friend I Good-night, 
 my sparkling bird of paradise ! " 
 
 Wilhelm asked how he had earned this title. 
 
 " Another time," she cried ; "another time. They say it has no 
 feet, but hovers in the air, and lives on ether. That, however, is a 
 storv, a poetic fiction. Good-night ! Dream sweetlv, if you are in 
 luck ! " 
 
 She proceeded to her room ; and he, being left alone, made haste to 
 his. 
 
 Half angrily he walked along his chamber to and fro. The jesting 
 but decided tone of Aurelia had hurt him : he felt deeply how unjust 
 she was. Could he treat Philina with unkindness or ill-nature ? She 
 had done no evil to him ; but for any love to her, he could proudly 
 and confidently take his conscience to witness that it was not so. 
 
 On the point of beginning to undress, he was going forward to his 
 bed to draw aside the curtains, when, not without extreme astonish-
 
 288 MEISfER'S APPREi^TlCESHiP. 
 
 ment, he saw a pair of women's slippers lying on tlie floor before it. 
 One of them was resting on its sole, the other on its edge. They 
 were Philina's slippers ; he recognized them but too well. He thought 
 lie noticed some disorder in the curtains ; nay, it seemed as if they 
 moved. He stood, and looked with unaverted eyes. 
 
 A new impulse, whicli he took for anger, cut his breath ; after a 
 short pause, he recovered, and cried in a firm tone : 
 
 "Come out, Pliilina ! What do you mean by this ? Where is 
 your sense, your modesty ? Are we to be the speech of the house to- 
 morrow ? " 
 
 Nothing stirred. 
 
 " I do not jest," continued he : "these pranks are little to my 
 taste. " 
 
 No sound ! No motion ! 
 
 Irritated and determined, he at last went forward to the bed, and 
 tore the curtains asunder. "Arise," said he, "if I am not to give 
 you up my room to-night." 
 
 With great surprise, he found his bed unoccupied ; the sheets and 
 pillows in the sleekest rest. He looked around ; he searched, and 
 searched, but found no traceS of the rogue. Behind the bed, the 
 stove, the drawers, there was nothing to be seen ; he sought with 
 great and greater diligence ; a spiteful looker-on might have believed 
 that he was seeking in the hope of finding. 
 
 All thouglit of sleep was gone. He put the slippers on his table ; 
 went past it up and down ; often paused before it ; and a wicked 
 sprite that watched him has asserted, that our friend employed him- 
 self for several hours about these dainty' little shoes ; that he viewed 
 them with a certain interest ; tliat he handled them and played with 
 them : and it was not till towards morning that he threw himself on 
 the bed, without undressing, where he fell asleep amidst a world of 
 curious fantasies. 
 
 He was still slumbering, when Serlo entered hastily : " Where are 
 you?" cried he: "still in bed? Impossible! I want you in the 
 theater ; we have a thousand things to do. " 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The forenoon and the afternoon fled rapidly away. The play- 
 house was already full ; our friend hastened to dress. It was not 
 with the joy which it had given him when he first essayed it, that he 
 now put on the garb of Hamlet : lie only dressed himself that he 
 might be in readiness. On joining the women in the stage-room, 
 they unanimously cried that nothing sat upon him right ; the fine 
 feather stood awry, the buckle of his belt did not fit ; they began to
 
 slit, to sew, and piece together. The music started : Philina still 
 objected somewhat to his rut? ; Aurelia had much to say against his 
 mantle. " Leave me alone, good people," cried he, " this negligence 
 will make me like Hamlet." The women would not let him go, but 
 continued trimming him. The music ceased ; the acting was begun. 
 He looked at himself in the glass ; pressed his hat closer down upon 
 his face, and retouched the painting of his cheeks. 
 
 At this instant, somebody came rushing in and cried : " The Ghost ! 
 the Ghost ! " 
 
 Wilhelm had not once had time all day to think of the Ghost, and 
 whether it would come or not. His anxiety on that head was at 
 length removed, and now .some strange assistant was to be expected. 
 The stage manager canje in, inquiring after various matters : Wilhelm 
 had no time to ask about the Ghost ; he hastened to present himself 
 before the throne, where King and Queen, surrounded with their 
 court, were already glancing in all the splendors of royalty, and wait- 
 ing till the .scene in front of them should be concluded. He caught 
 the last words of Horatio, who was speaking of the Ghost in extreme 
 confusion, and seemed to have almost forgotten his part. 
 
 The intermediate curtain was aloft, and Hamlet saw the crowded 
 house before him. Horatio having spoken his address, and been dis- 
 missed by the King, pressed through to Hamlet ; and, as if present- 
 ing himself to the Prince, he said : '* The devil is in harness ; he has 
 put us all in fright." 
 
 In the meanwhile two men of large stature, in white cloaks and 
 capuches, were observed standing in the side scenes. Our friend, 
 in the distraction, embarrassment and hurry of the moment, had 
 failed in the first soliloquy ; at least such was his own opinion, though 
 loud plaudits had attended his exit. Accordingly he made his next 
 entrance in no i)leasant mood, with the dreary wintry feeling of dra- 
 matic condemnation. Yet he girded up his mind ; and spoke that 
 appropriate passage on the "rou.se and wassel," the "heavy-headed 
 revel " of the Danes, with suitable indifference : he had, like the 
 audience, in thinking of it, quite forgotten the Ghost ; and he started 
 in real terror, when Horatio cried out, "Look, my lord, it comes!" 
 He whirled violently round ; and the tall noble figure, the low inaudi- 
 ble tread, the light movement in the heavy-looking armor, made such 
 an impression on him, that he stood as if transformed to stone, and 
 could utter only in a half- voice his : " Angels and ministers of grace 
 defend us ! " He glared at the form ; drew a deep breathing once or 
 twice, and pronounced his address to the Ghost in a manner so con- 
 fused, so broken, so constrained, that the highest art could not have 
 hit the mark so well. 
 
 His tran.slation of this pa.ssage now stood him in good stead. He 
 had kept very close to the original ; in which the arrangement of the 
 words appeared to him expnssive of a mind confounded, terrified and 
 seized with horror ;
 
 240 MEISTER'S APPBENTIGESHIP. 
 
 Be thou a spirit of health, or gohlin damn'd, 
 
 Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, 
 
 Be thy intents wicked or charitable. 
 
 Thou com'st in such a questionable shape, 
 
 That I will speak to thee : I'll call thee Hamlet, 
 
 King, father, royal Dane ; O answer me ! " 
 
 A deep effect was visible in the audience. The Ghost beckoned, 
 the Prince followed him amid the loudest plaudits. 
 
 The scene changed ; and when the two had re-appeared, the Ghost 
 on a sudden stopped, and turned round ; by which means Hamlet 
 came to be a little too close upon it. With a longing curiosity, he 
 looked in at the lowered vizor, but except two deep-lying eyes, and a 
 well-formed nose, he could discern nothing. Gazing timidly, he 
 stood before the Ghost ; but when the first tones issued from the 
 helmet, and a somewhat hoarse yet deep and penetrating voice pro- 
 nounced the words : " I am thy father's spirit," Wilhelm, shudder- 
 ing, started back some paces, and the audience shuddered with him. 
 Each imagined that he knew the voice ; Wilhelm thought he noticed 
 in it some resemblance with his father's. These strange emotions 
 and remembrances ; the curiosity he felt about discovering his secret 
 friend, the anxiety about offending him, even the theatric impropriety 
 of coming too near him in the present situation, all this affected Wil- 
 helm with powerful and conflicting impulses. During the long 
 speech of the Ghost, he changed his place so frequently ; he seemed 
 so unsettled and perplexed, so attentive and so absent-minded, that 
 his acting caused a universal admiration, as the Spirit caused a uni- 
 versal horror. The latter spoke with a feeling of melancholy anger 
 rather than of sorrow ; but of anger spiritual, slow and inexhausti- 
 ble. It was the mistemper of a noble soul, that is severed from all 
 earthly things, and yet devoted to unbounded woe. At last he van- 
 ished ; but in a curious manner ; for a thin, gray, transparent gauze 
 arose from the place of descent like a vapor, spread itself over him, 
 and sank along with him. 
 
 Hamlet's friends now entered, and swore upon the sword. Old 
 Truepenny, in the meantime, was so busy under ground, that 
 wherever they might take their station, he was sure to call out right 
 beneath them : " Swear !" and they started, as if the soil had taken 
 fire below them, and hastened to another spot. On each of these 
 occasions, too, a little flame pierced through at the place where they 
 were standing. The whole produced on the spectators a profound 
 impression. 
 
 After this, the piece proceeded calmly on its course ; nothing failed, 
 all prospered ; the audience manifested their contentment, and the 
 actors seemed to rise in. heart and spirits every scene.
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER XIL 341 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The curtain fell ; and rapturous applauses sounded out of every 
 corner of the house. The four princely corpses sprang aloft, and 
 embraced each other. Polonius and Oi)helia likewise issued from 
 their graves, and listened with extreme satisfaction, as Horatio, who 
 had stepped before the curtain to announce the following piece, was 
 welcomed with the most thundering plaudits. The people would not 
 hear of any other play, but violently required the repetition of the 
 present. 
 
 "We have won," cried Serlo : "and so not another reasonable 
 word this night ! Everything depends on the first impression : we 
 should never take it ill of any actor that, on occasion of his first 
 appearance, he is provident and even self-willed." 
 
 The bos-keeper came and delivered him a heavy sum. ' ' We have 
 made a good beginning," cried tlie manager, " and prejudice itself will 
 now be on our side. But where is the supper that you promised us ? 
 To night we may be allowed to relish it a little." 
 
 It had been agreed that all the party were to stay together in their 
 stage dre.sses, and enjoy a little feast among themselves. Wilhelm 
 had engaged to have the place in readiness, and Frau Melina to pro- 
 vide the victuals. 
 
 A room, which commonly was occupied by scene painters, had ac- 
 cordingly been polished up as well as possible ; our friends had hung 
 it round with little decorations ; and so decked and trimmed it, that 
 it looked half like a garden, half like a colonnade. On entering it, 
 the company were dazzled with the glitter of a multitude of lights, 
 which, across the vapors of the sweetest and most copious perfumes, 
 spread a stately splendor over a well-decorated and well-furnished 
 table. These preparations were hailed with joyful interjections by 
 the party : all took their places with a certain genuine dignity ; it 
 seemetl as if some royal family had met together in the kingdom 
 of the Shades. Wilhelm sat between Aurelia and the Frau Melina ; 
 Serlo between Philina and Elmira ; nobody was discontented with 
 himself or with his place. 
 
 Our two tlieatric amateurs, who had from the first been present, 
 now increased the pleasure of the meeting. While the exhibition 
 was proceeding, they had several times stepped round, and come upon 
 the stage, expressing, in the warmest terms, the delight which they 
 and the audience felt. They now descended to particulars ; and each 
 was richly rewarded for his efforts. 
 
 With boundless animation, the company extolled man after man 
 and passage after passage. To the prompter, who had modestly sat 
 down at the bottom of the table, they gave a liberal commendation
 
 242 MEISTEB 'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 for his " rugged Pyrrhus ;" the fencing of Hamlet and Laertes was be- 
 yond all praise ; Ophelia's mourning had been inexpressibly exalted 
 and affecting ; of Polonius they would not trust themselves to speak. 
 
 Every individual present heard himself commended through the 
 rest and by them ; nor was the absent Ghost defrauded of his share 
 of praise and admiration. He had played the part, it was asserted, 
 with a very happy voice, and in a lofty style ; but what surprised 
 them most was the information which he seemed to have about their 
 own affairs. He entirely resembled the painted figure, as if he bad 
 sat to the painter of it ; and the two amateurs described, in glowing 
 language, how awful it had looked when the spirit entered near the 
 picture, and stepped across before his own image. Truth and error, 
 they declared, had been commingled in the strangest manner ; they 
 had felt as if the Queen did not really see the Ghost. And Frau 
 Melina was especially commended, because on this occasion she had 
 gazed upwards at the picture, while Hamlet was pointing downwards 
 at the specter. 
 
 Inquiry was now made how the apparition could have entered. 
 The stage manager rei^orted that a back door, usually blocked up by 
 decorations, had that evening, as the Gothic hall was occupied, been 
 opened ; that two large figures in white cloaks and hoods, one of 
 whom was not to be distinguished from the other, had entered by 
 this passage ; and by the same, it was likely, they had issued when 
 the third act was over. 
 
 Serlo praised the Ghost for one merit ; that he had not whined 
 and lamented like a tailor ; nay, to animate his son, had even intro- 
 duced a passage at the end, which more beseemed such a hero. Wil- 
 helm had kept it in memory ; he promised to insert it in his manu- 
 script. 
 
 Amid the pleasures of the entertainment, it had not been noticed 
 that the children and the harper were absent. Ere long they made 
 their entrance, and were blithely welcomed by the company. They 
 came in together, very strangely decked. Felix was beating a tri- 
 angle, Mignon a tambourine ; the old man had his large harp hung 
 round his neck and was playing on it whilst he carried it before him. 
 They marched round and round the table, and sang a multitude of 
 songs. Eatables were handed them ; and the guests seemed to think 
 they could not do a greater kindness to the children than by giving 
 them as much sweet wine as they chose to have. For the company 
 themselves had not by any means neglected a stock of savory flasks, 
 presented by the two amateurs, which had arrived that evening 
 in baskets. The children tripped about and sang ; Mignon, in par- 
 ticular, was frolicsome beyond all wont. She beat the tambourine 
 with the greatest liveliness and grace : now, with her finger pressed 
 against the parchment, she hummed across it swiftly to and fro ; 
 now rattled on it with her knuckles, now with the back of her 
 hand ; nay, sometimes, with alternating rhythm, she struck it first
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER XII. 248 
 
 against her knee and then against her head ; and anon twirling it in 
 her hand, she made the shells jingle by themselves ; and thus, from 
 the simplest instrument, elicited a great variety of tones. After she 
 and Felix had long rioted about, they sat down upon an elbow-chair 
 which was standing empty at tlie table, exactly opposite to Wilhelm, 
 
 "Keep oat of the chair!" cried Serlo : "it is waiting for the 
 Ghost, I think ; and when he comes it will be worse for j'ou." 
 
 " I do not fear him," answered Mignon ; "if he come, we can rise. 
 He is my uncle, and will not harm me. " To those who did not know 
 that her reputed father had been named the Great Devil this speech 
 was unintelligible. 
 
 The party looked at one another ; they were more and more con- 
 firmed in their suspicion that the manager was in the secret of the 
 Ghost. They talked and tippled, and the girls from time to time cast 
 timid glances towards the door. 
 
 The children, who, sitting in the great chair, looked from over the 
 table but like puppets in their box, did actually at length start a 
 little drama in the style of Punch. The screeching tone of these 
 people Mignon imitated very well ; and Felix and she began to knock 
 their heads together, and against the edges of the table, in such a 
 way as only wooden puppets could endure. Mignon, in particular, 
 grew frantic with gayety ; the company, much as they had laughed at 
 her at first, were in fine obliged to curl) her. But persuasion was of 
 small avail ; for she now sprang up, and raved and shook her taiu- 
 bourine, and caj^ered round the table. With her hair flying out be- 
 hind her, with her head thrown back, and her Jimbs, as it were, cast 
 into the air, she seemed like one of those- antique Maenads, whose 
 wild and all but impossible positions still, on classic monuments, 
 often strike us with amazement. 
 
 Incited by the talents and the uproar of the children, each endeav- 
 ored to contribute something to the entertainment of the night. The 
 girls gang several canons ; Laertes whistled in the manner of a night- 
 ingale ; and the pedant gave a symphony pianissimo on the jews- 
 harp. Meanwhile the youths and damsels, who sat near each other, 
 had begun a great variety of games ; in which, as the hands often 
 crossed and met, some pairs were favored with a transient squeeze, 
 the emblem of a hopeful kindness. Madame Melina, in particular, 
 seemed scarcely to conceal a decided tenderness for Wilhelm. It 
 was late, and Aurelia, perhaps the only one retaining self-possession 
 in the party, now stood up, and signified that it was time to go. 
 
 By way of termination, Serlo gave a firework, or what resembled 
 one; for he could imitate the sound of ci'ackers, rockets and fire- 
 wheels with his mouth, in a style of nearly inconceivable correctness. 
 You had only to shut your eyes and the deception was complete. In 
 the meantime they had all risen ; the men gave their amis to the 
 women to escort them home. Wilhelm was walking last with Aure- 
 lia. The stage manager met him on the stairs, and said to him ;
 
 244 MEISTER'8 APPnEKTIGESHIP. 
 
 " Here is the veil our Ghost vanished in ; it was hanging fixed to the 
 place where he sank ; we found it this moment." 
 
 " A curious relic !" said our friend, and took it with him. 
 
 At this instant his left arm was laid hold of, and he felt a smart 
 twinge of pain in it. Mignon had hid herself in the place ; she had 
 seized him, and bit his arm. She rushed past him, downstairs, and 
 disappeared. 
 
 On reaching the open air almost all of them discovered that they 
 had drunk too liberally. They glided asunder without taking leave. 
 
 The instant Wilhelm gained his room he stripped, and extinguish- 
 ing his candle, hastened into bed. Sleep was overpowering him 
 without delay, when a noise, that seemed to issue from behind the 
 stove, aroused him. In the eye of his heated fancy, the image of the 
 harnessed King was hovering there ; he sat up that he might address 
 the spectre ; but he felt himself encircled with soft arms, and his 
 mouth was shut with kisses, which he had not force to push away. 
 
 CHAPTER Xm. 
 
 Next morning, Wilhelm started up with an unpleasant feeling, and 
 found himself alone. His head was still dim witli the tumult, which 
 he had not yet entirely slept off ; and the recollection of his nightly 
 visitant disquieted his mind. His first suspicion lighted on Philina ; 
 but, on second thoughts, he conceived that it could not have been she. 
 He sprang out of bed, and, while putting on his clothes, he noticed 
 that the door, which commonly he used to bolt, was now ajar ; 
 though whether he had shut it on the previous night or not, he could 
 not recollect. 
 
 But what surprised him most was the spirit's veil, which he found 
 lying on his bed. Having brought it up with him, he had most pro- 
 bably thrown it there himself. It was a gray gauze ; on the hem of 
 it he noticed an inscription broidered in dark letters. He unfolded it, 
 and read the words : " FoR the first and the last time ! Fly, 
 YOUTH ! FLY ! " He was struck with it, and knew not what to think 
 or say. 
 
 At this moment Mignon entered with his breakfast. The aspect of 
 the child astonished Wilhelm ; we may almost say frightened him. 
 She appeared to have grown taller overnight ; she entered with a 
 stately, noble air ; and looked him in the face so earnestly, that he 
 could not endure her glances. She did not touch him, as at other 
 times, when, for morning salutation, she would press his hand, or 
 kiss his cheek, his lips, his arm, or shoulder ; but having put his 
 things in order, she retired in silence. 
 
 The appointed time of a first rehearsal now arrived ; our friends
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER XIII. 245 . 
 
 assembled, all of them entirelj- out of tune from yester-niglit's 
 debauch. Wilhflm roused himself as much as possible, that he 
 might not at the very outset violate the principles of diligence, which 
 he had preached so lately with such emphasis. His practice in the 
 matter helped him through ; foj- practice and habit must, in every 
 art, fill up tlie voids, which genius and temper, in their fluctuations, 
 will so often leave. 
 
 Jiut in the present case, our friends had especial reason to admit 
 the truth of the remark, that no one should begin with a festivity any 
 situation that is meant to last, particularly th.at is meant to be a trade, 
 a mode of living. Festivities are fit for what is happily concluded ; 
 at the commencement, they but waste the force and zeal which should 
 inspire us in the struggle, and support us through a long-continued I 
 labor. Of all festivities, the marriage festival appears tlie most 
 unsuitable: calmness, humility and silent hope befit no ceremony] 
 more than this. 
 
 So passed the day, which to Wilhelm seemed the most insipid he 
 had ever spent. Instead of their accustomed conversation in the 
 evening, the company began to yawn : the interest of Hamlet was 
 exhausted ; they rather felt it disagreeable than otherwise that the 
 piece was to be given again next night. Wilhelm showed the veil 
 which the royal Dane had left ; it was to be inferred from this, that 
 he would not come again. Serlo was of that opinion ; he appeared 
 to be deep in the secrets of the Ghost ; but, on the other hand, 
 the inscription, " Fly, youth ! fly ! " seemed inconsistent with the rest. 
 How could Serlo be in league with any one whose aim it was to take 
 away the finest actor of his troupe ? 
 
 It had now become a matter of necessity to confer on Boisterous the 
 Ghost's part, and on the pedant that of the King. Both declared that . 
 they had studied these sulficiently : nor was it wonderful ; for in such 
 a number of rehearsals, and so copious a treatment of the subject, all 
 of them had grown familiar with it ; each could have. exchanged his 
 part with any other. Yet they rehearsed a little here and there, and 
 prepared the new adventurers as fully as the hurry would admit. 
 When the company was breaking up at a pretty late hour, Philina 
 softly whispered \\'illielm as she passed : " I must have my slippers 
 back: thou wilt not bolt the door?" These words excited .some 
 perplexity in Wilhelm, when he reached his chamber : they strength- 
 ened the suspicion that Philna was the secret visitant : and we our- 
 selves are forced to coincide with this idea ; particularly as the causes, 
 which awakened in our friend another and a stranger supposition, 
 cannot be disclosed. He kept walking up and down his chamber, in 
 no quiet frame : his door was actually not yet bolted. 
 
 On a sudden, Mignon rushed into the room ; laid hold of him, and 
 cried ; " Master 1 save the house I It is on fire !" Wilhelm sprang 
 through th*« door ; and a strong smoke came rushing down upon him 
 from the upper story. On the street he heard the cry of fire ; and
 
 246 MBISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 the liarper, with his instrument in his hand, came downstairs breath- 
 less through the smoke. Aurelia hurried out of her chamber, and 
 threw little Felix into Wilhelm's arms. 
 
 " Save the child ! " cried she ; " and we will mind the rest." 
 
 Wilhelm did not look upon the danger as so great ; his first thought 
 was to penetrate to the source of the fire, and try to stifle it before it 
 reached a head. He gave Felix to the harper ; commanding him to 
 hasten down the stone stairs, which led across a little garden vault 
 out into the garden, and to wait with the children in the open air. 
 Mignon took a light to show the way. He begged Aurelia to secure 
 her things there also. He himself pierced upwards through the 
 smoke ; but it was in vain that he exposed himself to such danger. 
 The flame appeared to issue from a neighboring house ; it had already 
 caught the wooden floor and staircase : some otlaers, who had hastened 
 to his help, were suffering like himself from fire and vapor. Yet he 
 kept inciting them ; he called for water ; he conjured them to dispute 
 every inch with the flame ; and promised to abide by them to the last. 
 At this instant, Mignon came springing up, and cried : "Master ! save , 
 thy Felix ! The old man is niad ! He is killing him." Scarcely 
 knowing what he did, Wilhelm darted downstairs, and Mignon fol- 
 lowed close behind him. 
 
 On the last steps, which led into the garden vault, he paused with 
 horror. Some heaps of fire- wood branches, and large masses of straw, 
 which had been stowed in the place, were burning with a clear flame ; 
 Felix was lying on the ground and screaming ; the harper stood 
 aside holding down his head, and leaned against the wall. " Un- 
 happ}' creature ! what is this ? " said Wiihelm. The old man spoke 
 not ; Mignon lifted Felix, and carried him with difficulty to the gar- 
 den ; while Wilhelm strove to pull the fire asunder and extinguish 
 it ; but only by his efforts made the flame more violent. At last he 
 too was forced to fly into the garden, with his hair and his eyelashes 
 burnt ; tearing the harper with him through the conflagration, who, 
 with singed beard, unwillingly accompanied him. 
 
 Wilhelm hastened instantly to seek the children. He found them 
 on the tlireshold of a summer-house at some distance : Mignon was 
 trying every effort to pacify her comrade. • Wilhelm took him on his 
 knee ; he questioned him, felt him ; but could obtain no satisfactory 
 account from either him or Mignon. 
 
 Meanwhile the fire had fiercely seized on seyeral houses ; it was 
 now enlightening all the neighborhood. Wilhelm looked at the child 
 in the red glare of the flames ; he could find no Avound, no blood, 
 no hurt of any kind. He groped over all the little creature's body ; 
 hut it gave no sign of pain ; on the contrary, it by degrees grew 
 calm, and began to wonder at the blazing houses, and express its 
 pleasure at the spectacle of beams and rafters burning all in order, 
 like a grand illumination, so beautifully there. 
 
 Wilhelm thought not of the clothes or goods he might have lost ;
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER XTII. 247 
 
 he felt deeply how inestimable to him was this pair of human 
 beings, who had just escaped so great a danger. He pressed little 
 Felix to his heart with a new emotion ; Mignon too he was about to 
 clasp with joyful tenderness, but she softly avoided this ; she took 
 him by the hand and held it fast. 
 
 " Master," said she (till the present evening she had hardly ever 
 named him master ; at first she used to name him sir, and afterwards 
 to call him father), " Master ! we have escaped an awful danger ; thy 
 Felix was on the point of death." 
 
 By man.y inquiries, Wilhelm learned from her at last, that when 
 they came into the vault, the harper tore the light from her hand, 
 and set on fire the straw. That he then put Felix down, laid his 
 hands with strange gestures on the head of the child, and drew a 
 knife, as if he meant to sacrifice him. That she sprang forward, 
 and snatched it from him ; that she screamed, and some one from 
 the house, who was carrying something down into the garden, came 
 to her help, but must have gone away again in the confusion, and 
 left the old man and the child alone. 
 
 Two or even three houses were now flaming in a general blaze. 
 Owing to the conflagration in the vault no person had been able to 
 take shelter in the garden. Wilhelm was distressed about his 
 friends, and in a less degree about his property. Not venturing to 
 quit the children, he was forced to sit, and see the mischief spread- 
 ing more and more. 
 
 In this anxious state he passed some hours. Felix had fallen 
 asleep on his bosom : Mignon was lying at his side, and holding fast 
 his hand. The efforts of the people finally subdued the fire. The 
 burnt houses sank, with successive crashes, into hea])s ; the morning 
 was advancing; the children awoke, and complained of bitter cold ; 
 even Wilhelm, in his light dress, could scarcely brook the chillness 
 of the falling dew. He took the young ones to the rubbish of the 
 prostrate building, where, among the ashes and the embers, they 
 found a very grateful warmth. 
 
 The opening day collected, by degrees, the various individuals of 
 the party. All of them had got away unhurt, no one had lost much. 
 Wilhelm's trunk was saved among the rest. 
 
 Towards ten o'clock Serlo called them to rehearse their Hamlet, at 
 least some scenes of the piece, in which fresh players -were to act. 
 He had some debates to manage, on this point, with the municipal 
 authorities. Th^ clergy required that after such a visitation of 
 Providence the playhouse should be shut for some time ; and Serlo, 
 on the other hand, maintained that, both for the purpose of repair- 
 ing the damage he had suffered and of exhilarating the depressed 
 and terrified spirits of the people, nothing could be more in place 
 than the exhibition of some interesting piece. ,His opinion in the end 
 prevailed ; and the house was full. The actors played with singular 
 fire, with more of a passionate freedom than at first. The feelings
 
 248 MEISTEB'8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 of the audience had been lieightened by the horrors of the previous 
 night, and tlieir appetite for entertainment had been sharpened by 
 the tedium of a wasted and dissipated day ; every one had more than 
 usual susceptibility for what was strange and moving. Most of them 
 were new spectators, invited by the fame of the piece ; they could 
 not compare the present with the preceding evening. Boisterous 
 played altogether in the style of the unknown Ghost ; the pedant, 
 too, had accurately seized the manner of his predecessor ; nor was 
 his own woeful aspect without its use to him ; for it seemed as if, in 
 spite of his purple cloak and his ermine collar, Hamlet .were fully 
 justified in calling him a " king of shreds and patches." 
 
 Few have ever reached the throne by a patli more singular than 
 his had been. But altliough the rest, and especially Philina, made 
 sport of his preferment, he himself signified that the count, a con- 
 summate judge, had at the first glance predicted this and much more 
 of him. Philina, on the other hand, recommended lowliness of mind 
 to him, saying she w^ould now and then powder the sleeves of his 
 coat, that he might remember that unhappy night in the castle, and 
 wear his crown with meekness. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 OuK friends had sought out other lodgings, on the spur of the mo- 
 ment, and were by this means much dispersed. Wilhelra had con- 
 ceived a liking for the garden-house, where he had spent the night 
 of the conflagration. He easily obtained the key, and settled himself 
 there. But Aurelia being greatly hampered in her new abode, he 
 was obliged to retain little Felix with him. Mignon, indeed, would 
 not pan with the boy. 
 
 He had placed the children in a neat chamber on the upper floor : 
 he himself was in the lower parlor. The young ones were asleep at 
 this time : Willi elm could not sleep. 
 
 Adjoining the lovely garden, which the full moon had just risen 
 to illuminate, the black ruins of the fire were visible, and here and 
 there a streak of vapor was still mounting from them. The air was 
 soft, the night extremely beautiful. Philina in issuing from the 
 theater had jogged him with her elbow, and whispered something to 
 him, which he did not understand. He felt perplexed and out of 
 humor : he knew not what he should expect or do. For a day or 
 two Philina had avoided him : it was not till to-night that she had 
 given him any second signal. Unhappily the doors, that he was not 
 to bolt, were now consuined ; the slippers had evaporated into smoke. 
 How the girl would gain admission to the garden, if her aim was such,
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER XIV. 249 
 
 he knew not. He wished she might not come ; and yet he longed 
 to liave some explanation with her. 
 
 But what lay heavier at his heart than this, was the fate of the 
 harper, whom, since the fire, no one had seen. Wilhelm was afraid 
 that, in clearing off the rubbish, they would find him buried under 
 it. Our friend had carefully concealed the suspicion which he en- 
 tertained, that it was the harper who had fired the house. The old 
 man had been first seen, as he rushed from the burning and smoking 
 floor ; and his desperation in the vault appeared a natural consequence 
 of such a deed. Yet, from the inquiry which the magistrates had in- 
 stituted touching the afEair, it seemed likely that the fire had not 
 originated in the house where Wilhelm lived, but had accidentally 
 been kindled in the third from that, and had crept along, beneath 
 the roofs, before it burst into activity. 
 
 Seated in a grove, our friend was meditating all these things, when 
 he heard a low footfall in a neighboring walk. By the melancholy 
 song which arose along with it, he recognized the harper. He caught 
 the words of the song without difficulty : it turned on the consola- 
 tions of a miserable man, conscious of being on the borders of in- 
 sanity. Unhappily our friend forgot the whole of it except the last 
 verse • 
 
 Wheresoe'er m}- steps may lead me, 
 
 Meekly at the door I'll stay ; 
 Pious hands will come to feedme, 
 
 A" d I'll wander on my way. 
 Each will feel a touch of gladness, 
 ' When my asred form appears ; 
 
 Each will shed a tear of sadness. 
 Though I reck not of his tears. 
 
 So singing, he had reached the garden door, which led into an un- 
 frequented street. Finding it bolted, he was making an attempt to 
 climb the railing, when Wilhelm held him back, and addressed some 
 kindly words to him. The old man begged to have the door unb- 
 locked, declaring that he would and must escape. Wilhelm repre- 
 sented to him, that he might indeed escape from the garden, but 
 could not from the town ; showing, at the same time, what suspicions 
 he must needs incur by such a step. But it was in vain : the old 
 man held b}- his opinion. Our friend, however, would not yield ; and 
 at last he brought him half by force, into the garden house, in which 
 he locked himself along with him. The two carried on a strange 
 conversation ; which, however, not to afflict our readers with repeat- 
 ing unconnected thoughts and dolorous emotions, we had rather pass 
 in silence than detail at large.
 
 250 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Undetermined what to do with the unhappy man, who displayed 
 such indubitable symptoms of madness, Wilhelm w-ould have been 
 in great perplexity, had not Laertes come that very morning, and 
 delivered him from his uncertainty. I^aertes, as usual, rambling 
 everywhere ajjout the town, had happened, in some coffee-house, to 
 meet with a man who, a short time ago, had suffered under violent 
 attacks of melancholy. Tliis person, it appeared, had been intrusted 
 to the care of some country clergyman, who made it his peculiar 
 business to attend to people in such situations. In the present in- 
 stance, as in many others, his treatment had succeeded : he was still 
 in town ; and the friends of the patient were showing hira the greatest 
 honor. 
 
 Wilhelm hastened to find out this person : he disclosed the case to 
 him, and agreed with him about the terms. The harper was to be 
 brought over to him, under certain pretexts. The separation deeply 
 pained our friend ; so used was he to see the man beside him, and to 
 hear his spirited and touching strains. The hope of soon beholding 
 him recovered, served in some degree to moderate this feeling. The 
 old man's harp had been destroyed in the burning of the house : they 
 purchased him another, and gave it to him when he departed. 
 
 Mignon's little wardrobe had in like manner been consumed. As 
 Wilhelm was about providing her with new apparel, Aurelia proposed 
 that now at last they should dress her as a girl. 
 
 " No ! no ! not at all I " cried Mignon ; and insisted on it with such 
 earnestness, that they let her have her way. 
 
 The company had not much leisure for reflection ; -the exhibitions 
 followed close on one another. 
 
 Wilhelm often mingled with the audience, to ascertain their feel- 
 ings ; but he seldom heard a criticism of the kind he wished ; more 
 frequently the observations which he listened to distressed or angered 
 him. Thus, for instance, shortly after Hamlet had been acted for the 
 first time, a youth was telling, with considerable animation, how 
 happy he had been that evening in the play-house. Wilhelm heark- 
 ened, and was scandalized to learn that his neighbor had, on that 
 occasion, in contempt of those behind him, kept his hat on, stub- 
 bornly refusing to remove it till the piece was done ; to which heroical 
 transaction he still looked back with great contentment. 
 
 Another gentleman declared that Wilhelm played Laertes very 
 well ; but that the actor who had undertaken Hamlet did not seem 
 too happy in Iris part. This permutation was not quite unnatural ; 
 for Wilhelm and Laertes did resemble one another, though in a very 
 distant manner.
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER XV. 251 
 
 A third critic warmly praised his acting, particularly in the scene 
 with his mother ; only he regretted much, that in this fiery moment, 
 a white strap had peered out from below the prince's waistcoat, 
 whereby the illusion had been greatly marred. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the interior of the company, a multitude of alterations 
 were occurring. Philina, since the evening subsequent to that of the 
 fire, had never given our friend the smallest sign of closer intimacy. 
 She had, as it seemed on purpose, hired a remote lodging ; she asso- 
 ciated with'Elmira, and came seldomer to Serlo, an arrangement very 
 gratifying to Aurelia. Serlo continued still to like her ; and often 
 visited her quarters, particularly when he hoped to find Elmira there. 
 One evening he took Wilhelm with him. At their enti'ance, both of 
 them were much surprised to see Philina in the inner room, sitting in 
 close contact with a young officer. He wore a red uniform with white 
 pantaloons ; but his face being turned away, they could not see it. 
 Philina came into the outer room to meet her visitors, and shut the 
 door behind her. " You surprise me in the middle of a very strange 
 adventure," cried she. 
 
 " It does not appear so strange," said Serlo : " but let us see this 
 handsome, young, enviable gallant. You have us in such training, 
 that we dare not show any jealousy, however it may be." 
 
 " I must leave you to suspicion for a time," replied Philina, in a 
 jesting tone ; " yet I can assure you, the gallant is a lady of my friends, 
 who wishes to remain a few days undiscovered. You shall know her 
 history in due season ; nay, perhaps you sliall even behold the beauti- 
 ful spinster in person ; and then most probably I shall have need of 
 all my prudence and discretion, for it seems too likely that your new 
 acquaintance will drive your old friend out of favor." 
 
 Wilhelm stood as if transformed to stone. ' At the first glance, the 
 red uniform had reminded him of Mariana ; the figure too was hers, 
 the fair hair was hers ; only the present individual seemed to be a 
 little taller. 
 
 "For Heaven's sake," cried he, "let us know something more 
 about your friend ; let us see this lady in disguise ! We are now 
 partakers of your secret : we will promise, we will swear ; only let 
 us see the lady ! " 
 
 " What a fire he is in ! " cried Philina ; " but be cool, be calm ; for 
 to-day there will nothing come of it." 
 
 " Let us only know her name ! " cried Wilhelm 
 
 " It were a fine secret, then," replied Philina. 
 
 " At least her first name ! " 
 
 " If you can guess it, be it so. Three guesses I will give you ; not 
 a fourth. You might lead me through the whole calendar." • 
 
 "Well !" said Wilhelm, "Cecilia, then?" 
 
 ' ' None of your Cecilias ! " 
 
 "Henrietta?" 
 
 " Not at all ! Have a care, I pray you ; guess better, or your curi- 
 osity will have to sleep unsatisfied."
 
 253 MEISTER'8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 Wilbelm paused and shivered : he tried to speak, but the sound 
 died away within him. "Mariana?" stammered he at last, "Mari- 
 ana ? " 
 
 "Bravo!" cried Philina. "Hit to a hair's-breadth ! " said she, 
 whirling round upon her heel, as she was wont on-such occasions. 
 
 Wilhelm could not utter a word ; and Serlo, not observing his 
 emotion, urged Philina more and more to let them in. 
 
 Conceive the astonishn^pnt of both, when Wilhelm, suddenly and 
 vehemently interrupting their raillery, threw himself at Philina's 
 feet, and with an air and tone of the deepest passion begged and con- 
 jured her ; " Let me see the stranger," cried he ; " she is mine ; she 
 is my Mariana ! She for whom I have longed all the days of my life ; 
 she, who is still more to me than aJl the women in this world ! Go in 
 to her at least, and tell her that I am here : that the man is here who 
 linked to her his earliest love, and all the happiness of his youth. 
 Say that he will justify himself, though he left her so unkindly ; he 
 Avill pray for pardon of her ; and will grant her pardon, whatsoever 
 she may have done to him ; he will even make no pretensions farther, 
 if he may but see her, if he may but see that she is living and in hap- 
 piness. " 
 
 Philina shook her head, and said : " Speak low ! Do not betray us ! 
 If the lady is indeed your friend, her feelings must be spared ; for she 
 does not in the least suspect that you are here. Quite a different sort 
 of business brings her hither : and you know well enough, one had 
 rather see a specter than a former lover, at an inconvenient time. I 
 will ask her, and prepare her ; we will then consider what is farther 
 to be done. To-morrow I shall write you a note, saying ■when you are 
 to come, or whether you may come at all. Obey me punctually ; for 
 I protest that, without her own and my consent, no eye shall see this 
 lovely creature. I shall keep my doors better bolted : and with axe 
 and crow you surely will not visit me." 
 
 Our friend conjured her, Serlo begged of her ; but all in vain ; they 
 were obliged to yield, and leave the chamber and the house. 
 
 With what feelings Wilhelm passed the night is easy to conceive. 
 How slowly the hours of the day flowed on, while he sat expecting a 
 message from Philina, may also be imagined. Unhappily he had to 
 play that evening : such mental pain he had never endured. The 
 moment his part was done, he hastened to Philina's house, Avithout 
 inquiring whether he had got her leave or not. He found her doors 
 bolted : and the people of the house informed him that mademoiselle 
 had set out early in the morning, in company with a young officer ; 
 that she had talked about returning shortly ; but they had not be- 
 lievecf her, she having paid her debts, and taken everything along 
 with her. 
 
 This intelligence drove Wilhelm almost frantic. He hastened to 
 Laertes, that he might take measurrs for pursuing lier, and, cost what 
 it would, for attaining certainty regarding her attendant. Laertes,
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER XVI. 253 
 
 however, represented to him the imprudence of such passion and cre- 
 dulity. " T dare wager, after all," said he, " that it is no one else 
 but Friedrich. The boy is of a high faniil}', I know ; he is madly in 
 love with Philina ; it is likely he has cozened from his friends a fiesh 
 supply of money, so that he can once more live with her in peace for 
 a while." 
 
 These considerations, though they did not quite convince our friend, 
 sufficed to make him waver. Laertes shewed him how imjjrobable 
 the story was, with which Philina had amused them ; reminded him 
 how well the stranger's hair and figure answered Friedrich ; that with 
 the start of him by twelve hours, they could not easily be overtaken ; 
 and what was more than all, that Serlo could not do without him at 
 the theater. 
 
 By so many reasons, Wilhelm was at last persuaded to postpone 
 the execution of his project. That night Laertes got an active man, 
 to whom they gave the charge of following the runaways. It was a 
 steady person, who had often officiated as courier and guide to travel- 
 ing parties, and was at present without employment. They gave him 
 money, they informed him of the whole affair ; instructing him to seek 
 and overtake the fugitives, to keep them in his eye, and instantly to 
 send intelligence to Wilhelm, when and how he found them. That 
 very hour he mounted horse, pursuing this ambiguous pair : by which 
 exertions Wilhelm was, in some degree at least, composed. 
 
 CSAPTEK XVI. 
 
 The departure of Philina did not make a deep sensation, either in 
 the theater or in the public. She never was in earnest with any- 
 thing : the women universally detested her ; the men rather wished 
 to see her selves-two than on the boards. Thus her fine, and for the 
 stage even happy talents were of no avail to her. The other mem- 
 bers of the company took greater labor on them to supply her place : 
 the Frau Melina, in particular, was much distinguished by her dili- 
 gence and zeal. She noted down, as formerly, the jirinciples of Wil- 
 helm ; she guided herself according to his theory and his example ; 
 there was of late a something in her nature that rendered her more 
 interesting. She soon acquired an accurate mode of playing ; she 
 attained the natural tone of conversation altogether, that of keen 
 emotion she attained in. some degree. She contrived, moreover, to 
 adapt herself to Serlo's humors ; she took pains in singing fo'i' his 
 pleasure, and succeeded in that matter moderately well. 
 
 By the accession of some other players, the company was rendered 
 more complete : and while Wilhelm and Serlo were busied each in 
 his degree, the former insisting on the general tone and spirit of the
 
 254 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 whole, the latter faithfully elaborating the separate passages, a laud- 
 able ardor likewise inspired the actors, and the public took a lively 
 interest in their concerns. 
 
 " We are on the right path," said Serlo once ; " if we can continue 
 thus, the public too will soon be on it. Men are easily astonished and 
 misled by wild and barbarous exhibitions ; yet lay before them any- 
 thing rational and polished, in au interesting manner, and doubt not 
 they will catch at it. 
 
 ' ' What forms the chie#def ect of our German theater, what pre- 
 vents both actor and spectator from obtaining proper views, is the 
 vague and variegated nature of the objects it contains. You nowhere 
 find a barrier, on which to prop your judgment. In my opinion, it is 
 far from an advantage to us, that we have expanded our stage into as 
 it were a boundless arena for the whole of nature : yet neither mana- 
 ger nor actor need attempt contracting it, until the taste of the nation 
 shall itself mark out the proper circle. Every good society submits to 
 certain conditions and restrictions ; so also must every good theater. 
 Certain manners, certain modes of speech, certain objects and fash- 
 ions of i^roceeding, must altogether be excluded. You do not grow 
 poorer by limiting your household expenditure." 
 
 On these points our friends were more or less accordant or at vari- 
 ance. The majority, with Wilhelm at their head, were for the English 
 theater ; Serlo and a few others for the Fi-ench. 
 
 It was also settled, that in vacant hours, of which unhappily an 
 actor has too many, they should in company peruse the finest plays 
 in both these languages ; examining what parts of them seemed best 
 and worthiest of imitation. They accordingly commenced with some 
 French pieces. On these occasions, it was soon observed, Aurelia 
 went away whenever they began to read. At first they supposed she 
 had been sick. Wilhelm once questioned her about it. 
 
 " I would not assist at such a reading," said she : " for how could I 
 hear and judge, when my heart was torn in pieces ? I hate the French 
 language from the bottom of my soul." 
 
 " How can you be hostile to a language," cried our friend, "to 
 which we Germans are indebted for the greater part of our accom- 
 plishments ; to which we must liecome indebted still more, if our 
 natural qualities are ever to assume their proper form '! " 
 
 " It is no prejudice ! " replied Aurelia : " a painful impression, a 
 hated recollection of my faithless friend, has robbed me of all enjoy- 
 ment in that beautiful and cultivated tongue. How I hate it now, 
 with my whole strength and heart ! During the period of our kindliest 
 connection, hl3 wrote in German, and what genuine, powerful, cordial 
 German ! It was not till he wanted to get quit of me, that he began 
 seriously to write in French. I marked, I felt what lie meant. What 
 he would have blushed to utter in his mother-tongue, he could by 
 this means write with a quiet conscience. It is the language of reser- 
 vations, equivocations and lies : it is a perfidious language. Heaveu
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER XVI. 255 
 
 be praised ! I cannot find another word to express Xhisperfide of theirs 
 in all its compass. Our poor treulos, the faithlens of the English, are 
 innocent as babes beside it. Perfide means faithless with pleasure, 
 with insolence and malice. How enviable is the culture of a nation 
 that can figure out so many shades of meaning by a single word ! 
 French is exactly the language of the world ; worthy to become the 
 universal language, that all may have it in' their power to cheat, and 
 cozen, and betray each other ! His French letters were always smooth 
 and pleasant, while you read them. If you chose to believe it, they 
 sounded warmly, even passionately; but if you examined narrowly, 
 they were but phrases, accursed phrases ! He has spoiled my feeling 
 to the whole language, to French literature, even to the beautiful 
 delicious expressions of noble souls which may be found in it. I 
 shudder when a French word is spoken in my hearing." 
 
 In such terms, she could for hours continue to give utterance to 
 her chagrin, interrupting or disturbing every other kind of conver- 
 sation. Sooner or later, Serlo used to put an end to such peevish 
 lamentations by some bitter sally ; but, hy this means, commonly the 
 talk for the evening was destroyed. 
 
 In all provinces of life, it is unhappily the case, that whatever is to 
 be accomplished by a number of co-operating men and circumstances, 
 cannot long continue perfect. Of an acting company as well as of a 
 kingdom, of a circle of friends as well as of an army, you may com- 
 monly select the moment when it may be said that all was standing 
 on the highest pinnacle of harmony, perfection, contentment and 
 activity. But alterations will ere long occur : the individuals that 
 compose the body often change ; new members are added ; the per- 
 sons are no longer suited to the circumstances, or the circumstances 
 to the persons ; what was formerly united, quickly falls asunder. 
 Thus it was with Serlo's company. For a time, you might have 
 called it as complete as any German company could ever boast of 
 being. Most of the actors were occupying their proper places ; all 
 had enough to do, and all did it willingly. Their private personal 
 condition was not bad ; and each appeared to promise great things in 
 his art, for each commenced with animation and alacrity. But it 
 soon became apparent that a part of them were mere automatons, 
 who could not reach beyond what was attainable without the aid of 
 feeling. Nor was it long till grudgings and envyings arose among 
 them, such as commonly obstruct every good arrangement, and easily 
 distort and tear in pieces everything that reasonable* and thinking 
 men would wish to keep united. 
 
 The departure of Phi Una was not quite so insignificant as it had at 
 first appeared. She had always skillfully contrived to entertain the 
 manager, and keep the others in good humor. She had endured 
 Aurelia's violence with amazing patience ; and her dearest task had 
 been to flatter \yilhelm. Then she was, in some respects, a bond of 
 anion for the whole : the loss of her was quickly felt.
 
 S66 MEISTEW 8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 Serlo could not live without some little passion of the love sort, 
 Elmira was of late grown up, we might almost say grown beautiful : 
 for some time she had been attracting his attention, and Philina, with 
 her usual dexterity, had favored this attachment so soon as she ob- 
 served it. " We should train ourselves in time," she would say, " to 
 the business of procuress ; nothing else remains for us when we are 
 old." Serlo and Elmira had by this means so approximated to each 
 other, that, shortly after the departure of Philina, both were of a 
 mind ; and their small romance was rendered doubly interesting, as 
 they had to hide it sedulously from the father ; Old Boisterous not 
 understanding jokes of that description. Elmira's sister had been 
 admitted to the secret : and Serlo was in consequence obliged to over- 
 look a multitude of things in both of them. One of their worst habits 
 was an excessive love of junketing, nay, if you will, an intolerable 
 gluttony. In this respect they altogether differed from Philina, to 
 whom it gave a new tint of loveliness, that she seemed as it were to 
 live on air ; eating very little ; and for drink, merely skimming off, 
 with all imaginable grace, the foam from a glass of champagne. 
 
 Now, however, Serlo, if he meant to please his doxies, was obliged 
 to join breakfast with dinner ; and with this, by a substantial bever, 
 to connect the supper. But amid gormandizing, Serlo entertained 
 another plan, which he longed to have fulfilled. He imagined that 
 he saw a kind of inclination between Wilhelm and Aurelia ; and he 
 anxiously wished that it might assume a serious shape. He hoped 
 to cast the whole mechanical department of his theatrical economy 
 on Wilhelm's shoulders ; to find in him, as in the former brother, a 
 faithful and industrious tool. Already he had, by degrees, sliifted 
 over to him most of the cares of management : Aurelia kept the 
 strong-box ; and Serlo once more lived as he had done of old, entirely 
 according to his humor. Yet there was a circumstance which vexed 
 him in secret, as it did his sister likewise. 
 
 The world has a particular way of acting towards public persons 
 of acknowledged merit ; it gradually begins to be indifferent to them ; 
 and to favor talents which are new, though far inferior ; it makes 
 excessive requisitions of the former, and accepts of anything w-ith 
 approbation from the latter. 
 
 Serlo and Aurelia had opportunity enough to meditate on this pecu- 
 liarity. The strangers, especially the young and handsome ones, had 
 drawn the whole attention and applause upon themselves ; and Serlo 
 and his sister, in spite of the most zealous efforts, had in general to 
 make their exits without the welcome sound of clapping hands. It is 
 true, some special causes were at work on this occasion. Aurelia's 
 pride was jjalpable, and her contempt for the public was known to 
 many. Serlo, indeed, flattered every individual ; but his cutting gibes 
 against the whole were often circulated and repeated. The new mem- 
 bers again were not only strangers, unknown and wanting help, but 
 some of thera were likewise young and amiable ; thus all of them 
 found patrons.
 
 JBOOK V, CHAPTER XVt. 257 
 
 Ere long, too, there arose internal discontents and many Ijickerings 
 among the actors. Scarcely had they noticed that our friend was 
 acting as director, when most of them began to grow the more remiss, 
 the more he strove to introduce a better order, greater accuracy, and 
 chiedy to insist that everything mechanical should be performed in 
 the most strict and regular manner. 
 
 Thus, by and by, the whole concern, which actually for a time had 
 nearly looked ideal, grew as vulgar in its attributes as any mere 
 itinerating theater. And unhappily, just as Wilhelm, l)y his labor, 
 diligence and vigorous efforts, had made himself acquainted with the 
 requisitions of the art, and trained completely both his person and his 
 habits to comply with them, he began to feel, in melancholy hours, 
 that this craft deserved the necessary outlay of time and talents less 
 than any other. The task was burdensome, the recompense was 
 small. He would rather have engaged with any occupation in which, 
 when the period of exertion is past, one can enjoy repose of mind, 
 than with this, wherein, after undergoing much mechanical drudgery, 
 the aim of one's activity cannot still be attained but by the strongest 
 effort of thought and emotion. Besides, he had to listen to Aurelia's 
 complaints about her brother's wastefulness ; he had to misconceive 
 the winks and nods of Serlo, trying from afar to lead him to a mar- 
 riage with Aui'elia. He had withal to hide his own secret sorrow, 
 which pressed heavy on his heart, because of that ambiguous officer, 
 whom he had sent in quest of. The messenger returned not, sent no 
 tidings, and Wilhelm feared that his Mariana was lost to him a second 
 time. 
 
 About this period there occurred a public mourning, which obliged 
 our friends to shut their theater for several weeks. Wilhelm seized 
 this opportunity to pay a visit to the clergyman, with whom the 
 harper had been placed to board. He found him in a pleasant dis- 
 trict ; and the first thing that he noticed in the parsonage, was the old 
 man teaching a boy to play iipon his instrument. The harper showed 
 no little joy at sight of Wilhelm ; he rose, held out his hand, and 
 said : " You see, I am still good for something in the world ; permit 
 me to continue ; for my hours are all distributed, and full of busi- 
 ness." 
 
 The clergyman saluted Wilhelm very kindly ; and told him that the 
 harper promised well, already giving hopes of a complete recovery. 
 
 Their conversation naturally turned upon the various modes of 
 treating the insane. 
 
 " Except pliysical derangements," observed the clergyman, " which 
 often place insuperable difficulties in the way, and in regard to which 
 I follow the prescriptions of a wise physician, the means of curing 
 madness seem to me extremely simple. Tliey are the very means by 
 which you hinder sane persons from becoming mad. Awaken their 
 activity ; accustom them to order ; bring them to perceive that they 
 hold their being and their fate in common with many millions ; that 
 Meister — 9
 
 258 ' MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 extraordinary talents, tlie liiglaest happiness, the deepest misery, are 
 but sliglit variations from the general lot ; in this way, no insanity 
 will enter ; or, if it has entered, will gradually disappear. I have 
 portioned out the old man's hours ; he gives lessons to some children 
 on the harp ; he worlds in the garden ; he is already much more cheer- 
 ful. He wishes to enjoy the cabbages he plants ; my son, to whom 
 in case of death he has bequeathed his harp, he is ardent to instruct, 
 that the boy may be able to make use of his inheritance. I have said 
 but little to him, as a clergyman, about his wild, mysterious scruples ; 
 but a busy life brings on so many incidents, that ere long he must 
 feel how true it is, that doubt of any kind can be removed by nothing 
 but activity. I go softly to work ; yet if I could get his beard and 
 hood removed, I should reckon it a weighty point ; for notliing more 
 exposes us to madness than distinguishing ourselves from others, and 
 nothing more contril^utes to maintain our common sense, than living 
 in the universal way with multitudes of men. Alas ! how much 
 there is in education, in our social institutions, to prepare us and our 
 children for insanity ! " 
 
 Wilhelm stayed some days with this iutelligen.t divine ; heard 
 from him many curious narratives, not of the insane alone, but of 
 persons such as commonly are reckoned wise and rational, though 
 they may have peculiarities which border on insanity. 
 
 The converstion became doubly animated on the entrance of the 
 doctor, with whom it was a custom to pay frequent visits to his friend 
 the clergyman, and to assist him in his labors of humanity. The 
 physician was an oldisli man, who, though in weak healtli, liad spent 
 many years in the practice of the noblest virtues. He was a strong 
 advocate for country life, being himself scarcely able to exist except 
 in the open air. Withal he was extremely active and companion- 
 able. For several years he had shown a special inclination to make 
 friends with all the country clergymen within his reach. Such of 
 these as were employed in any useful occupation he strove by every 
 means to help ; into others, who were still unsettled in their aims, 
 he endeavored to infuse a taste for some profitable species of exer- 
 tion. Being at the same time in connection with a multitude of 
 noblemen, magistrates, judges, he had in the space of twenty years, 
 in secret, accomplished much towards the advancement of many 
 branches of husbandry ; he had done his best to ])ut in motion every 
 project that seemed capable of benefiting agriculture, animals or 
 men ; and had thus forwarded improvement in its truest sense. 
 "For man," he used to say, "there is but one misfortune: when 
 some idea lays hold of him which exerts no influence upon active 
 life, or still more, which withdraws him from it. At the present 
 time," continued he on this occasion, " I have such a case before me ; 
 it concerns a rich and noble couple ; and hitherto has baffled all my 
 skill. The affair belongs in part to your department, worthy pastor, 
 and your friend here will forbear to mention it again.
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER XVI. 259 
 
 " In the absence of a certain nobleman, some persons of the house, 
 in a frolic not entirely commendable, disguised a young man in the 
 master's clothes. The lady was to be imposed upon by this decep- 
 tion ; and although it was described to me as nothing but a joke, I 
 am much afraid the purpose of it was to lead this noble and most 
 amiable lady from the path of honor. Her husband, however, un- 
 expectedly returns ; he enters his chamber, thinks he sees his spirit, 
 and from that time falls into a melancholy temper, firmly believing 
 that his death is near. 
 
 " He has now abandoned himself to men who pamper him with 
 religious ideas, and I see not how he is to l)e prevented from going 
 among the Herrnhuthers with his lady, and as he has no children, 
 from depriving his relations of the chief part of his fortune." 
 
 "With his lady?" cried our friend, in great agitation; for this 
 story had affrighted him extremely. 
 
 " And alas ! " replied the doctor, who regarded Wilhelm's exclama- 
 tion only as the voice of common sympathy ; " this lady is herself 
 possessed with a deeper sorrow, which renders a removal from the 
 workl desirable to her also. The same young man was taking leave 
 of her : she was not circumspect enough to hide a nascent inclina- 
 tion towards him ; the youth grew bolder, clasped her in his arms, 
 and pressed a large portrait of her husband, which was set with 
 diamonds, forcibly against her breast. She felt a sharp pain, which 
 gradually went off, leaving first a little redness, then no trace at all. 
 As a man, I am convinced that she has nothing farther to reproach 
 herself with in this affair ; as a physician, I am certain that this 
 pressure could not have the smallest ill effect. Yet she will not be 
 persuaded that an induration is not taking place in the part ; and if 
 you try to overcome her notion by the evidence of feeling, she main- 
 tains that though the evil is away at this moment, it will return the 
 next. She conceives that the disease will end in cancer, and thus 
 her youth and loveliness be altogether lost to others and herself." 
 
 " Wretch that I am ! " cried Wilhelm, striking his brow, and rush- 
 ing from the company into the fields. He had never felt himself in 
 such a miserable case. 
 
 The clergyman and the physician were of course exceedingly as- 
 tonished at the singular discovery. In the evening, all their skill 
 was called for, when our friend returned, and, with a circumstantial 
 disclosure of the whole occurrence, uttered the most violent accusa- 
 tions of himself. Both took interest in him ; both felt a real concern 
 about his general condition, particularly as he painted it in the 
 gloomy colors which arose from the humor of the moment. 
 
 Next day the physician, without much entreaty, was prevailed 
 upon to accompany him in his return ; both that he might bear him 
 company, and that he might if possible, do something for Aurelia, 
 whom our friend had left in rather dangerous circumstances. 
 
 In fact, they found her worse than they expected. She was af-
 
 260 ME18TER'S APPRENTICESHIP, 
 
 fiicted with a sort of intermittent fever, which could the less be 
 mastered, as she purposely maintained and aggravated the attacks of 
 it. The stranger was not introduced as a physician : he behaved 
 with great courteousness and prudence. They conversed about her 
 situation, bodily and mental : her new friend related many anecdotes 
 of persons who, in spite of lingering disorders, had attained a good 
 old age : adding, that in such cases, nothing could be more injurious 
 than the intentional recalling of passionate and disagreeable emo- 
 tions. In particular he stated, that for persons laboring under 
 chronic and partly incurable distempers, he had always found it a 
 very happy circumstance when they chanced to entertain, and cherish 
 in their minds, true feelings of religion. This he signified in the 
 most unobtrusive manner ; as it were historically ; promising Aurelia 
 at the same time the reading of a very interesting manuscript, which 
 he said he had received from the hands of an excellent lady of his 
 friends, who was now deceased. " To me," he said, " it is of un- 
 common value ; and I shall trust you even with the original. Noth- 
 ing but the title is in my handwriting : I have called it, ' Confessions 
 of a Fair Saint.' " 
 
 Touching the medical and dietetic treatment of the racked and 
 hapless patient, he also left his best advice with Wilhelm. He then 
 departed ; promising to write ; and, if possible, to come again in 
 person. 
 
 Meanwhile, in Wilhelm 's absence, there had changes been prepar- 
 ing such as he was not aware of. During his directorship, our 
 friend had managed all things with a certain liberality and freedom ; 
 looking chiefly at the main result. Whatever was required for 
 dresses, decorations and the like, he had usually provided in a 
 plentiful and handsome style ; and for securing the co-operation of 
 his people, he had flattered their self-interest, since he could not 
 reach them by nobler motives. In this he felt his conduct justified 
 the more, as Serlo for his own part never aimed at being a strict 
 economist ; but liked to hear the beauty of his theater commended ; 
 and was contented, if Aurelia, who conducted the domestic matters, 
 on defraying all expenses, signified that she was free from debt, and 
 could besides afford the necessary sums for clearing off such scores 
 as Serlo in the interim, by lavish kindness to his mistresses or other- 
 wise, might have incurred. 
 
 Melina, who was charged with managing the wardrobe, had all the 
 while been silently considering these things, with the cold spiteful 
 temper peculiar to him. On occasion of our friend's departure, and 
 Aurelia's increasing sickness, he contrived to signify to Serlo, that 
 more money might be raised and less expended ; and consequently 
 something be laid up, or at least a merrier life be led. Serlo lieark- 
 ened gladly to such allegations, and Melina risked the exhibition of 
 his plan. 
 
 " I will not say," continued he, "that any of your actors has at
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER XVI. 361 
 
 present too mucli salary ; they are meritorious people, they would 
 find a welcome anywhere ; but for the income which they bring us 
 in, they have too much. My project would be, to set up an opera : 
 and as to what concerns the playhouse, 1 may be allowed to say it, 
 you are the person for maintaining that establishment upon your 
 single strength. Observe how at present your merits are neglected ; 
 and justice is refused you, not because your fellow-actors are excel- 
 lent, but merely good. 
 
 " Come out alone, as used to be the case ; endeavor to attract 
 around you middling, I will even say inferior people, for a slender 
 salary ; regale the public with mechanical displays, as you can so 
 cleverly do ; apply your remaining means to the oj)era, which I am 
 talking of ; and you will quickly see, that with the same labor and 
 expense, you will give greater satisfaction, while you draw incom- 
 parably more money than at present." 
 
 These observations were so flattering to Serlo, that they could not 
 fail of making some impression on him. He readily admitted, that, 
 loving music as he did, he had long wished for some arrangement 
 such as this : though he could not but perceive that the public taste 
 would thus be still more widely led astray ; and that with such a 
 mongrel theater, not properly an opera, not properly a playhouse, 
 any residue of true feeling for regular and perfect works of art must 
 shortly disappear. 
 
 Melina ridiculed, in terms more plain than delicate, our friend's 
 pedantic notions in this matter, and his vain attempts to form the 
 public mind, instead of being formed by it. Serlo and he at last 
 agreed, with full conviction, that the sole concern was how to gather 
 money, and grow rich, or live a joyous life ; and they scarcely con- 
 cealed their wish to be delivered from those who at present hindered 
 them. Melina took occasion to lament Aurelia's weak health, and the 
 speedy end which it threatened ; thinking all the while directly the 
 reverse. Serlo affected to regret that Wilhelm could not sing ; thus 
 signifying that his presence was by no means indispensable. Melina 
 then came forward with a whole catalogue of savings, which, he said, 
 might be effected ; and Serlo saw in him his brother-in-law replaced 
 threefold. Both of them felt well that secrecy was necessary in the 
 matter ; but this mutual obligation only joined them closer in their 
 interests. They failed not to converse together privately, on every- 
 thing that happened ; to blame whatever Wilhelm or Aurelia under- 
 took ; and to elaborate their own project, and prepare it more and 
 more for execution. 
 
 Silent as they both might be about their plan, little as their words 
 betrayed them, in their conduct they were not so politic as constantly 
 to hide their purposes. Melina now opposed our friend in many 
 points that lay within the province of the latter ; and Serlo, who had 
 never acted smoothly to his sister, seemed to grow more bitter, the 
 more her sickness deepened, the more her passionate and variable 
 humors would have needed toleration.
 
 263 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 About this period, tliey took the " Emilie Galotti " of Lessing. 
 The parts were very happily distributed and filled ; within the 
 narrow circle of this tragedy, the company found room for showing 
 all the complex riches of their acting. Serlo in the character of 
 Marinelli was altogether in his place ; Odoardo was very well exhib- 
 ited ; Madam Meliua played the Mother with considerable skill ; 
 Elmira gained distinction as Emilie ; Laertes made a stately Appiani; 
 and Wilhelm had bestowed the study of some months upon the 
 Prince's part. On this occasion, both internally and with Aurelia 
 and Serlo, he had often come upon this question : What is the dis- 
 tinction between a noble and a well-bred manner ; and how far must 
 the former be included in the latter, though the latter is not in the 
 former? 
 
 Serlo, who himself in Marinelli had to act the courtier accurately, 
 without caricature, afforded him some valuable thoughts on this. 
 " A well-bred carriage," he would say, " is difficult to imitate ; for in 
 strictness it is negative ; and it implies a long-continued previous 
 training. You are not required to exhibit in your manner anything 
 that specially betokens dignity ; for, by this means, you are like to 
 run into formality and haughtiness ; you ai"e rather to avoid whatever 
 is undignified and vulgar. You are never to forget yourself ; are to 
 keep a constant watch upon yourself and others ; to f orgi ve nothing 
 that is faulty in your own conduct, in that of others neither to forgive 
 too little nor too much. Nothing must appear to touch you, nothing 
 to agitate : you must never overhaste yourself, must ever keep your- 
 self composed, retaining still an outward calmness, whatever storms 
 may rage within. The noble character at certain moments may 
 resign himself to his emotions ; the well-bred never. The latter is 
 like a man dressed out in fair and spotless clothes : he will not lean 
 on anything ; evei-y person will beware of rubbing on him. He dis- 
 tinguishes himself from others, yet he may not stand apart ; for as 
 in all arts, so in this, the hardest must at length be done with ease : 
 the well-bred man of rank, in spite of every separation, always seems 
 united with the people round him ; he is never to be stiff, or uncom- 
 plying ; he is always to appear the first, and never to insist on so ap- 
 pearing. . 
 
 " It is clear, then, that to seem well-bred, a man must actually be 
 so. It is also clear why women generally are more expert at taking 
 up the air of breeding than the other sex ; why courtiers and soldiers 
 catch it more easily than other men." 
 
 Wilhelm now despaired of doing justice to his part ; but Serlo aided 
 and encouraged him ; communicated the acutest observations on de- 
 tached points ; and furnished him so well, that on the exhibition of 
 the piece, the public reckoned him a proper prince. 
 
 Serlo had engaged to give him, when the play was over, such re- 
 marks as might occur upon his acting ; a disagreeable contention with 
 Aurelia prevented any conversation of that kjnd. Aurelia had acted
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER XVI. 263 
 
 tlie character of Orsina, in such a style as few have ever done. She 
 was well acquainted with the part ; and during the rehearsals she 
 had treated it indifferently ; but in the exhibition of the piece, she 
 had opened as it were all the sluices of her personal sorrow ; and the 
 character was represented, so as never jjoet in the first glow of inven- 
 tion could have figured it. A boundless applause rewarded her 
 painful efforts ; but her friends, on visiting her when the play was 
 finished, found her half fainting in her chair. 
 
 Serlo had already signified his anger at her over-charged acting, as 
 he called it ; at this disclosure of her inmost heart before the public, 
 to many individuals of which the history of her fatal passion was 
 more or less completely known. He had spoken bitterly and fiercely ; 
 grinding with his teeth and stamping with his feet, as was his cus- 
 tom when enraged. " Never mind her," cried he, when he saw her 
 in the chair, surrounded by the rest ; " she will go upon the stage 
 stark-naked one of these days ; and then the approbation will be 
 perfect." 
 
 " Ungrateful, inhuman man ! " exclaimed she ; " soon shall 1 be 
 carried naked to the place where approbation or disapprobation can 
 no longer reach our ears ! " With these words she started up, and 
 hastened to the door. The maid had not yet brought her mantle ; the 
 sedan was not in waiting ; it had been raining lately ; a cold, raw 
 wind was blowing through the streets. They endeavored to persuade 
 her to remain, for she was very warm. But in vain : she purposely 
 walked slow ; she praised the coolness, seemed to inhale it with pecu- 
 liar eagerness. No sooner was she home, than she became so hoarse 
 that she could hardly speak a word : she did not mention that there 
 was a total stiffness in her neck and along her back. Shortly after- 
 wards, a sort of palsy in the tongue came on, so that she pronounced 
 one word instead of another. They put her to bed ; by numerous and 
 copious remedies, the evil changed its form, but was not mastered. 
 The fever gathered strength ; her case was dangerous. 
 
 Next morning she enjoyed a quiet hour. She sent for Wilhelm, 
 and delivered him a letter. " This sheet," said she, " has long been 
 waiting for the present moment. I feel that my end is drawing nigh : 
 promise me that you yourself will take this paper ; that by a word or 
 two, you will avenge my sorrows on the faithless man. He is not 
 void of feeling ; my death will pain him for a moment." 
 
 Wilhelm took the letter ; still endeavoring to console her, and to 
 drive away the thought of death. 
 
 " No," said she, " do not deprive me of my nearest hope. I have 
 waited for him long ; I will joyfully clasp him when he comes." 
 
 Shortly after this, the manuscript arrived, which the physician had 
 engaged to send her. She called for Wilhelm ; made him read it to 
 her. The effect, which it produced upon her, the reader will be 
 better able to appreciate after looking at the following book. The 
 violent and stubborn temper of our poor Aurelia was mollified by
 
 264 MEI8TER' 8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 liearing it. Slie took back tlie letter, and wrote another as it seemed 
 in a meeker tone ; charging Willielm at the same time to console her 
 friend, if he should be distressed about her death ; to assure him 
 that she had forgiven him, and wished him every kind of happiness. 
 
 From this time, she was very quiet ; and appeared to occupy her- 
 self with but a few ideas, which she endeavored to extract and appro- 
 priate from the manuscript, out of which she frequently made Wil- 
 lielm read to her. The decay of her strength was not perceptible : 
 nor had Wilhelm been anticipating the event, when one morning as 
 he went to visit her, he found that she was dead. 
 
 Entertaining such respect for her as he had done, and accustomed 
 as he was to live in her society, the loss of her affected him with no 
 common sorrow. She was the only person that had truly wished 
 him well ; the coldness of Serlo he had felt of late but too keenly. 
 He hastened therefore to perform the service she had instrusted to 
 him ; he wished to be absent for a time. 
 
 On the other hand, this journey was exceedingly convenient for 
 Melina ; in the course of his extensive correspondence, he had lately 
 entered upon terms with a male and a female singer, who, it was 
 intended, should, by their performances in interludes, prepare the 
 public for his future opera. The loss of Aurelia, and Wilhelm's 
 absence, were to be supplied in this manner ; and our friend was 
 satisfied with anything tliat could facilitate his setting out. 
 
 He had formed, within himself, a singular idea of the importance 
 of his errand. The death of his unhappy friend had moved him 
 deeply ; and having seen her pass so early from the scene, he could 
 not but be hostilely inclined against the man, who had abridged her 
 life, and made that shortened term so full of woe. 
 
 Notwithstanding the last mild words of the dying woman, he re- 
 solved that, on delivering his letter, he would pass a strict sentence 
 on her faithless friend ; and not wishing to depend upon the temper 
 of the moment, he studied an address, which in the course of pre- 
 paration became more pathetic than just. Having fully convinced 
 himself of the good composition of his essay, he began committing it 
 to memory, and at the same time making ready for departure, Mignon 
 was present as he packed his articles ; she asked him whether he 
 intended traveling south or north ; and learning that it was the latter, 
 she replied : " Then I will wait here for thee." She begged of him 
 the pearl necklace which had once been Mariana's. He could not 
 refuse to gratify the dear little creature, and he gave it her ; the neck- 
 erchief she had already. On the other luind, she put the veil of Ham- 
 let's Ghost into his traveling-bag, though he had told her it could not 
 be of any service to him. 
 
 Melina took upon him the directorship ; his wife engaged to keep 
 a mother's eye upon the children, whom Wilhelm parted with 
 unwillingly. Felix was very merry at the setting out, and when asked 
 what pretty thing he wislied to have brought back for him, he said :
 
 BOOK V. CHAPTER XVL 265 
 
 *' Hark you ! bring me a papa ! " Mignon seized the traveler's hand ; 
 then, standing on her tiptoes, she pressed a warm and cordial, though 
 not a tender kiss, upon his lips, and cried : ' ' Master ! forget us not, 
 and come soon back." 
 
 And so we leave our friend, entering on his journey, amid a thou- 
 sand different thoughts and feelings : and here subjoin, by way of 
 close, a little poem, which Mignon had recited once or twice with 
 great expressiveness, and which the hurry of so many singular occur- 
 rences prevented us from inserting sooner : 
 
 O, ask me not to speak, I pray thee ! 
 
 It must not be reveard but hid ; 
 How gladly would my tongue obey thee, 
 
 Did not the voice of Fate forbid ! 
 
 At his appointed time revoh-ing. 
 
 The sun these shades of night dispels ; 
 
 The rock, its rugged breast dissolving, 
 Gives up to earth its hidden wells. 
 
 In friendship's arms each heart reposes ; 
 
 There soul to soul pours out its woe ; 
 My lips an oath forever closes, 
 
 My sorrows God alone can know.
 
 266 MEISTEE'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 BOOK VI. 
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A FAIR SAINT. 
 
 Till my eighth year, I was always a healthy child ; but of that 
 period I can recollect no more than of the day when I was born. 
 About the beginning of my eighth j'ear I was seized with a hemor- 
 rhage ; and from that moment my soul became all feeling, all memory. 
 The smallest circumstances of that accident are yet before my eyes, 
 as if they had occurred but yesterday. 
 
 During the nine months, which I then spent patiently upon a sick 
 bed, it appears to me, the ground- work of my whole turn of thought 
 was laid ; as the first means were then afforded my mind of develop- 
 ing itself in its own manner. 
 
 I suffered and I loved : this was the peculiar form of my heart. In 
 the most violent fits of coughing, in the depressing pains of fever, I 
 lay quiet, like a snail drawn back within its house : the moment I 
 obtained a respite, I wanted to enjoy something pleasant ; and as 
 every other pleasure was denied me, I endeavored to amuse myself 
 with the innocent delights of eye and ear. The people brought me 
 dolls and picture-books ; and whoever would sit by my bed, was 
 obliged to tell me something. 
 
 From my mother I rejoiced to hear the Bible histories : and my 
 father entertained me with natural curiosities. He had a very pretty 
 cabinet, from which he brought me first one drawer and then another, 
 as occasion served ; showing me the articles, and pointing out their 
 properties. Dried plants and insects, with many kinds of anatomical 
 preparations, such as human skin, bones, mummies and the like, were 
 in succession laid upon the sick-bed of the little one ; the birds and 
 animals he killed in hunting were shown to me, before they passed 
 into the kitchen ; and that the prince of the world might also have a 
 voice in this assembly, my aunt related to me love adventures out of 
 fairy tales. All was accepted, all took root. There were hours in 
 which I vividly conversed with the Invisible Power. I can still 
 repeat some verses, which I then dictated, and my mother wrote 
 down. 
 
 Often I would tell my father back again what I had learned from, 
 him. Rarely did I take any physic without asking where the simples 
 it was made of grew, what look they had, what names they bore. 
 Nor had the stories of my aunt lighted on stony ground. I figured 
 myself out iu pretty clothes ; and met the most delightful princes,
 
 BOOK VL 267 
 
 who could find no peace or rest till they discovered who the unknown 
 beauty was. One adventure of this kind, with a charming little 
 angel, dressed in white, with golden wings, who warmly courted me, 
 I dwelt upon so long that my imagination painted out his form almost 
 to visibility. 
 
 After a year I was pretty well restored to health ; but nothing of 
 the giddiness of childhood remained with me. I could not play with 
 dolls ; I longed for beings able to return my love. Dogs, cats and birds, 
 of which my father kept a great variety, afforded me delight ; but 
 what would I have given for such a creature as my aunt told me of ! 
 It was a lamb, which a peasant girl took up and nourished in a wood ; 
 but in the guise of this pretty beast an enchanted prince was hid ; 
 who at length appeared in his native shape, a lovely youth, and 
 rewarded his benefactress by his hand. Such a lamb I would have 
 given the world for. 
 
 But there was none to be had ; and as everything about me went on 
 in such a quite natural manner, I by degrees all but abandoned nearly 
 all hopes of such a treasure. Meanwhile, I comforted myself by 
 reading books, in which the strangest incidents were set forth. 
 Among them all, my favorite was the "Christian German Hercules" : 
 that devout love history was altogether in my way. Whenever any- 
 thing befell his dear Valiska, and cruel things befell her, he always 
 prayed before hastening to her aid, and the prayers stood there ver- 
 batim. My longing after the invisible, Avhich 1 had always dimly 
 felt, was strengthened by such means : for, in short, it was ordained 
 that God should also be my confidant. 
 
 As I grew older, I continued reading. Heaven knows what, in 
 chaotic order. The "Roman Octavia" was the book I liked beyond 
 all others. The persecutions of the first Christians, decorated with the 
 charms of a romance, awoke the deex>est intei-est in me. 
 
 But my mother now began to murmur at my constant reading ; 
 and to humor her, my father took away my books to-day, but gave 
 them back to-morrow. She was wise enough to see that nothing 
 could be done in this way ; she next insisted merely that my Bible 
 should be read with equal diligence. To this 1 was not disinclined : 
 and I accordingly perused the sacred volume with a lively interest. 
 Withal my mother was extremely careful that no books of a cor- 
 ruptive tendency should come into my hands : immodest writings I 
 would, of my own accord, have cast away ^ for my princes and my 
 princesses were all extremely virtuous. 
 
 To my mother and my zeal for knowledge, it was owing that with 
 all my love of books I also learned to cook ; for much was to be seen 
 in cookery. To cut up a hen, a pig, was quite a feast for me. 1 
 used to bring the entrails to my father, and he talked with me about 
 them, as if 1 had been a student of anatomy. With suppressed joy, 
 he would often call me his misfashioned son. 
 
 My twelfth year was now behind me. 1 learned French, dancing,
 
 268 MEISTER'8 APPBENTIGESHIP. 
 
 and drawing ; I received the usual instructions in religion. In the 
 latter many thoughts and feelings were awakened, but nothing prop- 
 erly relating to my own condition. I liked to hear the people speak 
 of God ; I was proud that I could speak on these points better than 
 my equals. I zealously read many books which put me in a condi- 
 tion to talk about religion ; but it never once struck me to think how 
 matters stood with me, wliether my soul was formed according to 
 these holy precepts, whether it was like a glass from which the ever- 
 lasting sun could be reflected in its glancing. From the first, I had 
 presupposed all this. 
 
 My French I learned with eagerness. My teacher was a clever 
 man. He was not a vain empiric, not a dry grammarian : he had 
 learning, he had seen the world. Instructing me in language, he 
 satisfied my zeal for knowledge in a thousand ways. I loved him so 
 much that I used to wait his coming with a palpitating heart. Draw- 
 ing was not hard for me : I should have made greater progress had 
 my teacher possessed head and science ; he had only hands and prac- 
 tice. 
 
 Dancing was, at first, one of my smallest amusements ; my body 
 was too sensitive for it ; I learned it only in the company of my 
 sisters. But our dancing-master took a thought of gathering all his 
 scholars, male and female, and giving them a ball. This event gave 
 dancing quite another charm for me. 
 
 Amid a throng of boys and girls the most remarkable were two 
 sons of the marshal of the court. The younger was of my age, the 
 other two years older. They were children of such beauty that, ac- 
 cording to the universal voice, no one had seen their like. For my 
 part, scarcely had I noticed them when I lost sight of all the otlier 
 crowd. From that moment I began to dance with care, and to wish 
 that I could dance with grace. How c_ame it on the other hand that 
 these two boys distinguished me from all the rest? No matter; be- 
 fore an hour had passed, we had become the warmest friends ; and 
 our little entertainment did not end till we had fixed upon the time 
 and place where we were next to meet. What a joy for me ! And 
 how charmed was I next morning when both of them inquired for 
 my health, each in a gallant note, accompanied with a nosegay ! I 
 have never since felt as I then did ! Compliment was met by com- 
 pliment ; letter answered letter. The church and the public walks 
 were grown a rendezvous ; our young acquaintances, in all their 
 little parties, now invited us together ; while, at the same time, we 
 were slj' enough to veil the business from our parents, so that they 
 saw no more of it than we thought good. 
 
 Thus had I at once got a pair of lovers. I had yet decided upon 
 neither ; they both pleased me, and we did extremely well together. 
 All at once the elder of the two fell very sick. I myself had often 
 been sick ; and thus I was enabled, by rendering him many little 
 dainties and delicacies suited for a sick person, to afford some solace
 
 BOOK VI. ' 269 
 
 to the sufferer. His parents tbankfully acknowledged my attention. 
 In compliance with the prayer of their beloved son, they invited me, 
 with all my sisters, to their house, so soon as he had risen from his 
 sick bed. The tenderness which he displayed on meeting me was 
 not the feeling of a child. From that day I gave the preference to 
 him. He warned me to keep our secret from his brother ; but the 
 flame could no longer be concealed ; and the jealousy of the younger 
 completed our romance. He played us a thousand tricks ; eager to 
 annihilate our joys, he but increased the passion he was seekiug to 
 destroy. 
 
 At last, then, I had actually found the wished-for lamb : and this 
 attachment acted on me like my sickness ; it made me calm, and drew 
 me back from noisy pleasures. I was solitary, I was moved ; and 
 thoughts of (jod again occurred to me. He was again my confidant, 
 and I well remember with what tears I often prayed for this poor boy, 
 who still continued sickly. 
 
 The more childishness there was in this adventure, the more did it 
 contribute to the forming of my heart. Our French teacher had now 
 turned us from translating, into daily writing him some letter of our 
 own invention. I brought my little history to market, shrouded in 
 the names of Phyllis and Damon. The old man saw through it ; and 
 to render me communicative, praised my labor very much. I still 
 waxed bolder ; came openly out with the affair, adhering even in the 
 minute details to truth. I do not now remember what the passage 
 was at which he took occasion to remark ; " How pretty, how natu- 
 ral it is ! But the good "Phyllis had better have a care ; the thing may 
 soon grow serious." 
 
 It vexed me that he did not look upon the matter as already serious ; 
 and I asked him, with an air of pique, what he meant by serious. I 
 had not to repeat the question ; he explained himself so clearly, that 
 I could scarcely hide my terror. Yet an anger came along with it, as 
 I took it ill that he should entertain such thoughts, I kept myself 
 composed ; I tried to justify my nymph ; and said with glowing 
 cheeks : " But, sir, Phyllis is an honorable girl." 
 
 He was rogue enough to banter me about my honorable heroine. 
 While we were speaking French, he played upon the word lionnHe, 
 and hunted the honorableness of Phyllis over all its meanings. I felt 
 the ridicule of this, and was extremely puzzled. He, not to frighten 
 me, broke off ; but afterwards often led the conversation to such top- 
 ics. Plays and little histories, such as I was reading and translating 
 with him, gave him frequent opportunity to show how feeble a secur- 
 ity against the calls of inclination our boasted virtue was. I no longer 
 contradicted him ; but I was in secret scandalized ; and his remarks 
 became a burden to me. 
 
 With my worthy Damon, too, I by degrees fell out of all connec- 
 tion. The chicanery of the younger boy destroyed our intercourse. 
 Soon after, both these blooming creatures died. I lamented sore; 
 however, in a short time I forgot.
 
 370 MEI8TER'8 APPEENTICE8H1F. 
 
 But Phyllis rapidly increased in stature ; was altogether healthy, 
 and began to see the world. The hereditary prince now married : 
 and a short time after, on his father's death, began his rule. Court 
 and town were in the liveliest motion : my curiosity had copious 
 nourishment. There were plays and balls, with all their usual accom- 
 paniments ; and though my parents kept retired as much as possible, 
 they were obliged to show themselves at court, where I was of course 
 introduced. Strangers were pouring in from every side ; high com- 
 pany was in every house; even to us .some cavaliers were recommended, 
 others introduced ; and at my uncle's men of every nation might be 
 met with. 
 
 My honest Mentor still continued, in a modest and yet striking way, 
 to warn me ; and I in secret to take it ill of him. With regard to his 
 assertion, that women under every circumstance were weak, I did not 
 feel at all convinced : and here perhaps 1 was in the right, and my 
 ^Mentor in the wrong ; but he spoke so earnestly, that once I grew 
 afraid he might be right, and said to him, with much vivacity : 
 " Since the danger is so great, and the human heart so weak, I will 
 pray to God tliat he may keep me." 
 
 This simple answer seemed to please him, for he praised my pur- 
 pose ; but on my side, it was anything but seriously meant. It was, 
 in truth, but an empty word ; for my feelings towards the Invisible 
 were almost totally extinguished. The hurry and the crowd I lived 
 in, dissipated my attention, and carried me along as in a rapid stream. 
 These were the emptiest years of my life. All day long, to speak of 
 nothing, to have no solid thought ; never to 'do anything but revel : 
 such was my employment. On my beloved books I never once be- 
 stowed a thought. The people I lived among had not the slightest 
 tinge of literature or science : they were German courtiers ; a. class of 
 men at that time altogether destitute of culture. 
 
 Such society, it may be thought, must naturally have led me to 
 the brink of ruin. I lived away in mere corporeal cheerfulness ; I 
 never took myself to task, I never prayed, I never thought about my- 
 self or God. Yet I look upon it as a i)rovideutial guidance, that none 
 of these many handsome, rich and well-dressed men could take my 
 fancy. They were rakes, and did not conceal it ; this scared me back : 
 they adorned their speech with double meanings ; this offended me, 
 made me act with coldness towards them. Many times their improprie- 
 ties exceeded belief ; and I did not restrain myself from being rude. 
 
 Besides, my ancient counselor had once in confidence contrived to 
 tell me, that, with the greater part of these lewd fellows, health as 
 well as virtue was in danger. I now shuddered at the sight of them ; 
 I was afraid, if any one of them in any way approached too near me. 
 I would not touch their cups or glasses, even the chair they had been 
 sitting on. Thus morally and physically I remained apart from them ; 
 all the compliments they paid me I haughtily accepted, as incense 
 that was due.
 
 BOOK VI. 271 
 
 Among the strangers then resident among us, was one young man 
 peculiarly distinguished, whom we used in sport to call Narciss. He 
 had gained a reputation in the diplomatic line ; and among the various 
 changes now occurring at court, he was in hopes of meeting with some 
 advantageous place. He soon became acquainted with my father ; 
 his acquirements and manners opened for him the way to a select 
 society of most accomplished men. My father often spoke in praise 
 of him : his figure, which was very handsome, would have made a 
 still better impression, had it not been for something of self-compla- 
 cency, which breathed from the whole carriage of the tnan. I had 
 seen him ; I thought well of him ; but we had never spoken. 
 
 At a great ball, where we chanced to be in company, I danced a 
 minuet with him ; but this too passed without results. The more 
 violent dances, in compliance with my father, who felt anxious about 
 my health, I was accustomed to avoid : in the present case, when 
 these came on, I retired to an adjoining room, and began to talk with 
 certain of my friends, elderly ladies, Avho had set themselves to cards. 
 
 Narciss, who had jigged it for a while, at last came into the room, 
 where I was ; and having got the better of a bleeding at the nose, 
 which had overtaken him in dancing, he began speaking with me 
 about a multitude of things. In half an hour, the talk had grown so 
 interesting, that neither of us could think of dancing any more. We 
 were rallied by our friends ; but we did not let their bantering dis- 
 turb us. Next evening we recommenced our conversation, and were 
 very careful not to hurt our health. 
 
 The acquaintance, then, was made. Narciss was often with my 
 sisters and myself; and I now once more began to reckon over and 
 consider what I knew, what I thought of, what I had felt, and what I 
 could express myself about in conversation. My new friend had 
 mingled in the best society ; besides the department of history and 
 politics, with every part of which he was familiar, he had gained 
 extensive literary knowledge ; there was nothing new that issued 
 from the press, especially in Fi-ance, that he was unacquainted with. 
 He bought or sent me many a pleasant book ; but this we had to keep 
 as secret as forbidden love. Learned women had been made ridicu- 
 lous, nor were well-informed women tolerated, — apparently, because it 
 would have been uncivil to put so many ill-informed men to shame. 
 Even my father, much as he delighted in this new opportunity of 
 cultivating my mind, expressly stipulated that our literary commerce 
 should remain secret. 
 
 Thus our intercourse continued for almost year and day ; and still 
 1 could not say that, in any wise, Narciss had ever shown me aught 
 of love or tenderness. He was always complaisant and kind ; but 
 manifested nothing like attachment : on the contrary, he seemed to 
 be in some degree affected by the charms of my youngest sister, who 
 was then extremely beautiful. In sport, he gave her many little 
 friendly names, out of foreign tongues ; for he could speak two or
 
 273 MEISTER' 8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 tliree of these extremely well, and loved to mix tlieir idiomatic 
 phrases with his German. Such compliments she did not answer 
 very liberally ; she was entangled in a difEereut noose ; and being 
 very sharp, while he was very sensitive, the two were often quarrel- 
 ing about trifles. vVitli my mother and my aunt he kept on very 
 pleasant terms : and thus by gradual advances, he was grown to be 
 a member of the family. 
 
 Who knows how long we might have lived in this way, had not a 
 curious accident altered our relations all at once. My sisters and I 
 were invited to a certain house, to which we did not like to go. The 
 company was too mixed ; and persons of the stupidest, if not the 
 rudest staaup were often to be met there. Narciss, on this occasion, 
 was invited also ; and on his account I felt inclined to go, for I was 
 sure of finding one, at least, whom I could converse with as I desired. 
 Even at table, we had many things to suffer ; for several of the gen- 
 tlemen had drunk too much : then, in the drawing-room, they insisted 
 on a game at forfeits. It went on, with great vivacity and tumult. 
 Narciss had lost a forfeit ; they ordered him, by way of penalty, to 
 whisper something pleasant in the ear of every member of the com- 
 pany. It seems, he staid too long beside my next neighbor, the lady 
 of a captain. The latter on a sudden struck him such a box with his 
 fist, that the powder flew about me, into my eyes. When I had got 
 my eyes cleared, and in some degree recovered from my terror, I saw 
 that both gentlemen had drawn their swords. Narciss was bleeding ; 
 and the other, mad with wine and rage and jealousy, could scarcely 
 be held back by all the company. I seized Narciss, led him by the 
 arm upstairs : and as I did not think my friend safe even here from 
 his frantic enemy, I shut the door and bolted it. 
 
 Neither of us considered the wound serious ; for a slight cut across 
 the hand was all we saw. Soon, however, 1 discovered that there 
 was a stream of blood running down his back, that there was a deep 
 wound on the head. I now began to be afraid. I hastened to the 
 lobby, to get help ; but I could see no person ; every one had stayed 
 below to calm the raving captain. At last a daughter of the family 
 came skipping up ; her mirth annoyed me ; she was like to die with 
 laughing at the bedlam spectacle. I conjured her, for the sake of 
 heaven to get a surgeon ; and she, in her wild way, sprang downstairs 
 to fetch me one herself. 
 
 Returning to my wounded friend, I bound my handkerchief about 
 his hand ; and a neckerchief, that was hanging on the door, about 
 his head. He was still bleeding copiously : he now grew pale, and 
 seemed as if he were about to faint. There was none at hand to aid 
 me : I very freely put my arm round him ; patted his cheek, and tried 
 to cheer him by little flatteries. It seemed to act on him like a spir-" 
 itual remedy ; lie kept his senses, but sat as pale as death. 
 
 At last the active housewife arrived : it is easy to conceive her ter- 
 ror wlieu she saw my friend in tliis predicament, lying in my arms.
 
 BOOK ri. 273 
 
 and both of us best reamed witli blood. No one had supposed he 
 was wounded ; all imagined I had carried him away in safety. 
 
 Now smelling-bottles, wine and everythnig that could support and 
 stimulate were copiously produced. The surgeon also came ; and I 
 might easily have been dispensed with. Narciss, however, held me 
 firmly by tlie hand ; I would have stayed without holding. During 
 the dressing of his wounds, I continued wetting his lips with wine ; 
 I minded nc^ though all the company were now about us. The sur- 
 geon having finished, his patient took a mute but tender leave of me, 
 and was conducted home. 
 
 The mistress of the house now led me to her bedroom : she had 
 to strip me altogether; and I must confess, while they washed the 
 blood from me, I saw with pleasure, for the first time, in a mirror, 
 that I might be reckoned beautiful without help of dress. No por- 
 tion of my clothes could be put on again ; and as the people of the 
 house were all either less or larger than myself, I was taken home in 
 a strange disguise. My parents were, of course astonished. They 
 felt exceedingly indignant at my fright, at the wounds of their friend, 
 at the captain's madness, at the whole occurrence. A very little 
 would have made my father send the captain a challenge, that he 
 might avenge his friend without delay. ' He blamed the gentlemen 
 that had been there, because they had not punished on the spot such 
 a murderous attempt ; for it was but too clear, that the captain, in- 
 stantly on striking, had drawn his sword, and wounded the other from 
 behind. The cut across the hand had been given, just when Narciss 
 himself was grasping at his sword. I felt unspealtably affected, 
 altered ; or, how shall I express it ? The passion which was sleeping 
 at the deepest bottom of my heart, had at once broken loose, like a 
 flame getting air. And if joy and pleasure were well suited for the 
 first producing and the silent nourishing of love, yet this passion, 
 bold by nature, is most easily impelled by terror to decide and to de- 
 clare itself. My mother gave her little flurried daughter some medi- 
 cine, and made her go to bed. With the earliest morrow, my father 
 hastened to Narciss, whom he found lying very sick of a wound- 
 fever. 
 
 He told me little of what passed between them ; but tried to quiet 
 me about the probable results of this event. They were now consid- 
 ering whether an apology should be accepted, whether the affair 
 should go before a court of justice, and many other points of that 
 description. I knew my father too well to doubt that he would be 
 averse to see the matter end without a duel ; but I held my peace ; 
 for I had learned .from him before, that women should not meddle 
 in such things. For the rest, it did not strike me as if anything had 
 passed between the friends, in which my interests were specially 
 concerned ; but my father soon communicated to my mother the pur- 
 port of their farther conversation. Narciss, he said, appeared to be 
 exceedingly affected at the help afforded by me ; had embraced him.
 
 274 MEISTER'S APPRENTIUE8HIP. 
 
 declared liimself my debtor forever ; signified that he desired no 
 happiness except what he could share with me, and concluded by en- 
 treating that he might presume to ask my hand. All this mamma 
 repeated to me, but subjoined the safe reflection, that, " as for what 
 was said in the first agitation of mind in such a case, there was little 
 trust to be placed in it." "Of course, none," I answered, with 
 affected coldness ; though all the while I was feeling Heaven knows 
 what. • 
 
 Narciss continued sick for two months ; owing to the wound in 
 his right hand, he could not even write. Yet, in the meantime, he 
 showed me his regard by the most obliging courtesies. All these 
 unusual attentions I combined with what my mother had disclosed 
 to me ; and constantly my head was full of fancies. The whole city 
 talked of the occurrence. With me they spoke of it in a peculiar 
 tone ; they drew inferences which, greatly as I struggled to avoid 
 them, touched me very close. What had formerly been habitude 
 and trifling, was now grown seriousness and inclination. The anx- 
 iety in which I lived was the more violent, the more carefully I 
 studied to conceal it from every one. The idea of losing him 
 frightened me ; the possibility of any closer union made me tremble. 
 For a half-prudent girl tTiere is really something awful in the 
 thought of marriage. 
 
 By such incessant agitations, I was only once more led to recollect 
 myself. The gaudy imagery of a thoughtless life, which used to 
 hover day and night before my eyes, was at once blown away. My 
 soul again began to awaken ; but the greatly interrupted intimacy 
 with my Invisible Friend was not so easy to renew. We still con- 
 tinued at a frigid distance : it was again something ; but little to the 
 times of old. 
 
 A duel had been fought, and the captain severely wounded, before 
 I ever heard of it. The public feeling was, in all senses, strong on 
 the side of my lover, who at length again appeared upon the scene. 
 But first of all, he came, with his head tied up and his arm in a 
 sling, to visit us. How my heart beat while he was there ! The 
 whole family were present ; general thanks and compliments were 
 all that passed on either side ; Narciss, however, found an oppor- 
 tunity to show some secret tokens of his love to me, by which means 
 my inquietude was but increased. After his recovery, he visited us 
 throughout the winter on the former footing ; and in spite of all the 
 soft private marks of tenderness which he contrived to give me, 
 the whole affair remained unsettled, undiscussed. 
 
 In this manner was I kept in constant practice. I could trust my 
 thoughts to no mortal ; and from (iod I was too far removed. Him 
 I had quite forgotten, those four wild years : I now again began to 
 think of him occasionally ; but our acquaintance had grown cool ; 
 they were visits of mere ceremony these ; and as, moreover, in wait- 
 ing on him, I used to dress in fine apparel, to set before him self-
 
 BOOK VI. 275 
 
 complacently my virtue, lienor and superiorities to otliers, he did 
 not seem to notice me, or know me in that finery. 
 
 A courtier would have been exceedingly distressed, if the prince 
 who held his fortune in his hands had treated him in this way ; but 
 for me, I did not sorrow at it. I had what I required, health and 
 conveniences ; if God should please to think of me, well ; if not, I 
 reckoned I had done my duty. 
 
 This, in truth, I did not think at that period ; yet it was the true 
 figure of my soul. But, to change and purify my feelings, prepara- 
 tions were already made. 
 
 The spring came on : Narciss once visited me, unannounced, and 
 at a time I happened to be quite alone. He now appeared in the 
 character of lover ; and asked me if I could bestow on him my 
 heart, and as soon as he should obtain some lucrative and honorable 
 place, my hand along with it. 
 
 He had been received into our service : but at first they kept him 
 back, and would not rapidly promote him, because they dreaded his 
 ambition. Having some little fortune of his own, he Avas left with 
 a slender salary. 
 
 Notwithstanding my regard for him, I knew that he was not a man 
 to treat with altogether frankly. I drew iip, therefore, and referred 
 him to my father About my father he did not seem to doubt ; but 
 wished first to be at one with me, now and here. I at last said. Yes ; 
 but stipulated as an indispensable condition that my parents should 
 concur. He then spoke formally with both of them ; they signified 
 their satisfaction ; mutual promises were given, on the faith of his 
 advancement; which it was expected would be speedy. Sisters and 
 aunts were informed of this arrangement, and the strictest secrecy 
 enjoined on them. 
 
 Thus from a lover I had got a bridegroom. The difference between 
 the two soon showed itself to be considerable. If one could change 
 the lovers of all honorable maidens into bridegrooms, it would be a 
 kindness to our sex, even though marriage should not follow the con- 
 nection. The love between two persons does not lessen by the change, 
 but it becomes more reasonable. Innumerable little follies, all coquet- 
 ries and caprices, disappear. If • the bridegroom tells us, that we 
 please him better in a morning-cajp than in the finest head-dress, no 
 discreet young woman will disturb herself about her hair-dressing : 
 and nothing is more natural than that he, too, should think solidly, 
 and rather wish to form a housewife for himself, than a gaudy doll 
 for otliers. And thus it is in every province of the business. 
 
 Should a young woman, of this kind, be fortunate enough to have a 
 bridegroom who possesses understanding and acquirements, she learns 
 from him more than universities ^nd foreign lands can teach. She 
 not only willingly receives instruction when he offers it, but she 
 endeavors to elicit more and more from him. Love makes much that 
 was impossible possible. By degrees, too, that subjection, so neces-
 
 276 MEISTER 'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 sary and so graceful for the female sex, begins : the bridegroom does 
 not govern like the husband, he only asks ; but his mistress seeks to 
 discover what he wants, and to offer it before he asks it. 
 
 So did experience teach me what I would not for much have missed. 
 I was happy, truly happy, as woman could be in the world ; that is 
 to say, for a while. 
 
 Amid these quiet joys a summer passed away. Narciss gave not 
 the slightest reason to complain of him ; he daily became more dear 
 to me ; my whole soul was his ; this he well knew, and knew also 
 how to prize it. Meanwhile, from seeming trifles, something rose, 
 which by and by grew hurtful to our union. 
 
 Narciss behaved to me as to a bride, and never dared to ask of me 
 such favors as were yet forbidden us. But, about the boundaries of 
 virtue and decorum, we were of very different opinions. I meant to 
 walk securely ; and so never granted him the smallest freedom which 
 the whole world might not have witnessed. He, used to dainties, 
 thought this diet very strict. On this point there was continual vari- 
 ance ; he praised my modesty, and sought to undermine my resolu- 
 tion. 
 
 The serious of my old French teacher now occurred to me, as well 
 as the defense which I had once suggested in regard to it. 
 
 With God I had again become a little more acquainted. He had given 
 me a bridegroom whom I loved ; and for this I felt some thankful- 
 ness. Earthly love itself concentrated my soul, and put its powers in 
 motion ; nor did it contradict my intercourse with God. I naturally 
 complained to him of what alarmed me ; but I did not perceive that I 
 myself was wishing and desiring it. In my own eyes I was strong ; 
 I did not pray, " Lead us not into temptation !" My thoughts were 
 far beyond temptation. In this flimsy tinsel work of virtue I came to 
 God ; he did not drive me back. On the smallest movement towards 
 him, he left a soft impression on my soul ; and this impression caused 
 me always to return. 
 
 Except Narciss, the world was altogether dead to me ; excepting 
 him, there was nothing in it that had any charm. Even my love for 
 dress was but the wish to please him ; if I knew that he was not to 
 see me, I could spend no care upon it. I liked to dance ; but if he 
 was not beside me, it seemed as if I could not bear the motion. At a 
 brilliant festival, if he was not invited, I could neither take the trou- 
 ble of ])roviding new things, nor of putting on the old, according to 
 the mode. To me they were alike agreeable, or rather, I might say, 
 alike burdensome. I used to reckon such an evening very fairly 
 spent, when I could join myself to any ancient card party, though 
 formerly 1 had not the smallest taste for such things ; and if some old 
 acquaintance came and rallied me.al)out it, I would smile, perhaps for 
 the first time all that night. So, likewise, it was with promenades, 
 and every social entertainment that can be imagined.
 
 BOOK VI. . m 
 
 Him had I chosen from all others, 
 His would I be, and not another's ; 
 To me his love was all in all . 
 
 Thus was I often solitary in the midst of company ; and real solitude 
 was generally acceptable to me. But my busy soul could neither 
 sleep nor dream ; I felt and thought ; and acquired, by degrees, some 
 faculty to speak about my feelings and my thoughts with (iod. Then 
 were feelings of another sort unfolded ; but these did not contradict 
 the former feelings : my affection to Narciss accorded with the uni- 
 versal scheme of nature : it nowhere hindered the performance of a 
 duty. They did not contradict each other, yet they were immensely 
 different. Narciss was the only living form which hovered in my 
 mind, and to which my love was all directed ; but the other feeling 
 was not directed towards any form, and yet it was unspeakably agree- 
 able. I no longer have it, I no longer can impart it. 
 
 My lover, whom I used to trust with all my secrets, did not know 
 of this. I soon discovered that he thought far otherwise : he often 
 gave me writings which opposed, with light and heavy weapons, all 
 that can be called connection with the Invisible. I used to read the 
 books, because they came from him ; but at the end, I knew no word 
 of -all that had been argued in them. 
 
 Nor, in regard to sciences and knowledge, was there want of con- 
 tradiction in our conduct. He did as all men do, he mocked at learned 
 women ; and yet he kept continually instructing me. He used to 
 speak with me on all subjects, law excepted ; and while constantly 
 procuring books of every kind for me, he frequently repeated the 
 uncei-tain precept, " That a lady ought to keep the knowledge she 
 might have more secret than the Calvinist his creed in Catholic coun- 
 tries." And while I, by natural consequence, endeavored not to show 
 myself more wise or learned than formerly befoi'e the world, Narciss 
 himself was commonly the first who yielded to the vanity of speaking 
 about me and my superiorities. 
 
 A nobleman of high repute, and at that time valued for his influ- 
 ence, his talents and accomplishments, was living at our court with 
 great applause. He bestowed especial notice on Narciss, whom he 
 kept continually about him. They once had an argument about the 
 virtue of women. Narciss repeated to me what had passed between 
 them ; I was not wanting with my observations ; and my friend 
 required of me a written essay on the subject. I could write French 
 fluently enough ; I had laid a good foundation with my teacher. My 
 correspondence with Narciss was likewise carried on in French : 
 except in French books, there was then no elegant instruction to be 
 had. My essay pleased the count ; I was obliged to let him have 
 some little songs, which I had lately been composing. In short, 
 Narciss appeared to revel without stint in the renown of his beloved : 
 and the story, to his great contentment, ended with a French epistle 
 in heroic verse, which the count transmitted to him on departing ; in
 
 278 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 wliicli tlxeir argument was mentioned, and my friend reminded of his 
 happiness in being destined, after all bis doubts and errors, to learn 
 most certainly what virtue was, in the arms of a virtuous and charm- 
 ing wife. 
 
 lie showed this poem first of all to me, and then to almost every 
 one ; each thinking of the matter what he pleased. Thus did he act 
 in several cases ; every stranger, whom he valued, must be made 
 acquainted in our house. 
 
 A noble family was staying for a season in the place, to profit by 
 the skill of our physician. In this house too Narciss was looked on 
 as a son : he introduced me there ; we found among these worthy 
 persons the most pleasant entertainment for mind and heart. Even 
 the common pastimes of society appeared less empty here than else- 
 where. All knew how matters stood with us : they treated us as 
 circumstances would allow, and left the main relation unalluded to. 
 I mention this one family, because in the after-period of my life it 
 had a powerful influence on me. 
 
 Almost a year of our connection had elapsed ; and along with it, 
 our spring was over. The summer came, and all grew drier and 
 more earnest. 
 
 By several unexpected deaths, some ofiices fell vacant which Nar- 
 ciss might make pretensions to. The instant was at hand, when my 
 whole destiny must be decided ; and while Narciss, and all our friends, 
 were making every effort to efface some impressions which obstructed 
 him at court, and to obtain for him the wished-for situation, I turned 
 with my request to my Invisible Friend. I was received so kindly, 
 that I gladly came again. I confessed, without disguise, my wish 
 that Narciss might obtain the place ; but my prayer was not importu- 
 nate ; and I did not require that it should happen for the sake of my 
 petition. 
 
 The place was obtained by a far inferior competitor. I was dread- 
 fully troubled at this news ; I hastened to my room, the door of which 
 I locked behind me. The first fit of grief went off in a shower of 
 tears ; the next thought was, ' ' Yet it was not by chance that it hap- 
 pened ; " and instantly I formed the resolution to be well content 
 with it, seeing even this apparent evil would be for my true advan- 
 tage. The softest emotions then pressed in upon me, and divided all 
 the clouds of sorrow. I felt that, with help like this, there was 
 nothing one might not endure. At dinner I appeared quite cheerful, 
 to the great astonishment of all the house. 
 
 Narciss had less internal force than I, and I was called upon to 
 comfort him. In his family, too, he had many crosses to encounter, 
 some of which afflicted him considerably ; and, such true confidence 
 subsisting between us, he intrusted me with all. His negotiations 
 for entering on foreign service were not more fortunate ; all this I 
 felt deeply on his account and mine ; all this too I ultimately carried 
 to the place where my petitions had already been so well received.
 
 BOOK VI. 279 
 
 The softer these experiences were, the oftener did I endeavor to 
 renew them ; I hoped continually to meet with comfort where I had 
 so often met with it. Yet I did not always meet with it : I was as 
 one that goes to warm him in the sunshine, while there is something 
 standing in the way that makes a shadow. " What is this?" I asked 
 myself. I traced the matter zealously, and soon perceived that it all 
 depended on the situation of my soul : if this was not turned in the 
 straightest direction towards God. I still continued cold ; I did not 
 feel his counter-influence ; I could obtain no answer. The second 
 question was : " What hinders this direction ? " Here I was in a wide 
 field ; I perplexed myself in an inquiry, which lasted nearly all the 
 second year of my attachment to Narciss. I might have ended the 
 investigation sooner ; for it was not long till I had got upon the 
 proper trace ; but I would not confess it, and I sought a thousand 
 outlets. 
 
 I very soon discovered that the straight direction of my soul was 
 marred by foolish dissipations, and employment with unworthy things. 
 The how and where was clear enough to me. Yet by what means 
 could 1 help myself, or extricate my mind from the calls of a world 
 where everything was either cold indifference or hot insanity ? Gladly 
 would I have left things standing as they were, and lived from day 
 to day, floating down with the stream, like other people whom I saw 
 quite happy ; but I durst not ; my inmost feelings contradicted me 
 too often. Yet if I determined to renounce society, and alter my rela- 
 tions to others, it was not in my power. I was hemmed in as by a 
 ring drawn round me ; certain connections I could not dissolve ; and, 
 in the matter which lay nearest to my heart, fatalities accumulated 
 and oppressed me more and more. I often went to bed with tears ; 
 and, after a sleepless night, arose again with tears : I required some 
 strong support ; and God would not vouchsafe it me, while I was 
 running with the cap and bells. 
 
 I proceeded now to estimate my doings, all and each ; dancing and 
 play were first put upon their trial. Never was there anything spoken, 
 thought or written for or against these practices, which I did not ex- 
 amine, talk of, read, weigh, reject, aggravate and plague myself 
 about If I gave up these habits, I was certain that Narciss would be 
 offended ; for he dreaded exceedingly the ridicule which any look of 
 strait-laced conscientiousness gave one in the eyes of the world. And 
 doing what I now looked upon as folly, noxious folly, out of no taste 
 of my own, but merely to gratify him, it all grew woefully irksome 
 to me. 
 
 Without disagreeable prolixities and repetitions, it is not in my 
 power to represent what pains I took, in trying so to counteract those 
 occupations which distracted my attention and disturbed my peace of 
 mind, that my heart, in spite of them, might still be open to the in- 
 fluences of the Invisible I3eing. But at last, with pain, I was com- 
 pelled to admit, that in this way the quarrel could not be composed, '
 
 280 MEISTEB'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 For no sooner liad I clothed myself in tlie garment of folly, tlian it 
 canie to be something more than a mask , than the foolishness pierced 
 and penetrated me through and through. 
 
 May I here overstep the province of a mere historical detail, and 
 offer one or two remarks ou what was then taking place within me? 
 What could it be that so changed my tastes and feelings, that, in my 
 twenty-second year, nay, earlier, I lost all relish for the recreations 
 with which people of that age are harmlessly delighted ? Why were 
 they not harmless for me? I may answer, just because they were 
 not harmless ; because I was not, like others of my years, unac- 
 quainted with my soul. No ! I knew from experiences which had 
 reached me unsought, that there are loftier emotions, which afford us 
 a contentment which it is vain to seek in the aniusements of the 
 world ; and that, in these higher joys, there is also kept a secret 
 treasure for strengthening the spirit in misfortuue. 
 
 But the pleasures of society, the dissipations of youth, must needs 
 have had a powerful charm for me, since it was not in my power to 
 engage in them without participation, to act among them as if they 
 were not there. How many things could I now do, if I liked, with 
 entire coldness, which then dazzled and confounded me, nay, threat- 
 ened to obtain the mastery over me ! Here tliere could no medium 
 be observed ; either those delicious amusements, or my nourishing 
 and quickening internal emotions, must be given up. 
 
 But in my soul the strife had, without my own consciousness, 
 already been decided. Even if there still was anything within me 
 that longed for earthly pleasures, I had now become unfitted for 
 enjoying them. Much as a man might hanker after wine, all desire 
 of drinking would forsake him, if he should be placed among full 
 barrels in a cellar, where the foul air was like to suffocate him. Free 
 air is more than wine : this 1 felt but too keenly ; and from the first, 
 it would have cost me little studying to prefer the good to the delight- 
 ful, if the fear of losing the affection of Narciss had not restrained 
 me. But at last, when after many thousand struggles, and thoughts 
 continually renewed, I began to cast a steady eye upon the bond 
 which held me to him, I discovered that it was but weali, that it 
 might be torn asunder. I at once perceived it to be only as a glass 
 bell, which shut me up in the exhausted, airless space. One bold 
 stroke to break the bell in pieces, and thou art delivered ! 
 
 No sooner thought than tried. I drew off the mask, and on all 
 occasions acted as my heart directed. Narciss I still cordially loved ; 
 but the thermomet(^r, which formerly had stood in hot water, was 
 now hanging in the natural air ; it could rise no higher than the 
 warmth of the atmosphere directed. 
 
 Unhappily, it cooled very much. Narciss drew back, and began to 
 
 assume a distant air : this was at his option, but my tliermometer 
 
 descended as he drew back. Our family observed this, questioned 
 
 ' me, and seemed to be surprised, I explained to them with stout
 
 BOOK VI. 281 
 
 defiance, that lieretofore I had made abundant sacrifices ; that I was 
 ready, still farther and to the end of my life, to share all crosses that 
 befell him ; but that I required full freedom in my conduct, that my 
 doings and avoidings must depend upon my own conviction ; that, 
 indeed, I would never bigotedly cleave to my own opinion, but, on 
 the other hand, would willingly be reasoned with ; yet, as it con- 
 cerned my own- happiness, the decision must proceed from myself, 
 and be liable to no manner of constraint. The greatest physician 
 could not move me by his reasonings, to take an article of food, 
 which perhaps was altogether wholesome and agreeable to many, so 
 soon as my experience had shown that on all occasions it was noxious 
 to me ; as I might produce coffee for an instance ; and just as little, 
 nay, still less, would I have any sort of conduct which misled me, 
 preached up and demonstrated upon me as morally profitable. 
 
 Having so long prepared myself in silence, these debates were 
 rather pleasant tlian vexatious to me. I gave vent to my soul ; I felt 
 the whole worth of my determination. I yielded not a hair's-breadth ; 
 and those to whom I owed no filial respect were sharply handled and 
 dispatched. In the family I soon prevailed. iNIy mother from her 
 youth had entertained these sentiments, though in her they had 
 never reached maturity : for no necessity had pressed upon her, and 
 exalted her courage to achieve her purpose. She rejoiced in behold- 
 ing her silent wishes fulfilled through me. My younger sisters 
 seemed to join themselves with me ; the second was attentive and 
 quiet. Our aunt had the most to object. The arguments which she 
 employed appeared to her irrefragable ; and they were irrefragable, 
 being altogether commonplace. At last I was obliged to show her 
 that she had no voice in the affair in any sense ; and after this, she 
 seldom signified that she persisted in her views. She was indeed the 
 only person that observed this transaction close at hand, without in 
 some degree experiencing its infiuence. I do not calumniate her when 
 I say that she had no character, and the most limited ideas. 
 
 My father had acted altogether in his own way. He spoke not 
 much, but often, with me on the matter : his arguments were rational, 
 and being his arguments, they could not be impugned. It was only 
 the deep feeling of my right that gave me strength to dispute against 
 him. But the scenes soon changed ; I was forced to make appeal to 
 his heart. Straitened by his understanding, I came out with the 
 most pathetic pleadings. I gave free course to my tongue and to my 
 tears. I showed him how much I loved Narciss ; how much con- 
 straint I had for two years been enduring ; how certain I was of 
 being in the right : that I was ready to testify that certainty, by the 
 loss of my beloved bridegroom and prospective happiness ; nay, if it 
 were necessary, by the loss of all that I possessed on earth ; that I 
 would rather leave my native country, my parents and my friends, 
 and beg my bread in foreign lands, than act against these dic- 
 tates of my conscience. He concealed his emotion ; he said nothing
 
 282 . MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 on the subject for a while, and at last he openly declared in my 
 favor. 
 
 During all this time Narciss forbore to visit us ; and my father 
 now gave up the weekly club, where he was used to meet him. The 
 business made a noise at court, and in the town. People talked 
 about it, as is common in such cases, which the i)ublic takes a vehe- 
 ment interest in, because its sentence has usurped an influence on 
 the resolutions of weak minds. I knew enough about the world to 
 understand that one's conduct is often censured by the very persons 
 who would have advised it, had one consulted them : and inde- 
 pendently of this, with my internal composure, I should have looked 
 on all such transitory speculations just as if they had not been. 
 
 On the other hand, I hindered not myself from yielding to my in- 
 clination for Narciss. To me he had become invisible, and to him 
 my feelings had not altered. I loved him tenderly ; as it were anew, 
 and much more steadfastly than before. If he chose to leave my 
 conscience undisturbed, then I was his : wanting this condition, I 
 would have refused a kingdom with him. For several months, I 
 bore these feelings and these thoughts about with me ; and finding, 
 at last, that I was calm and strong enough to go peacefully and 
 firmly to work, I wrote him a polite but not a tender note, inquiring 
 why he never came to see me. 
 
 As I knew his manner of avoiding to explain himself, in little 
 matters, but of silently doing what seemed good to him, I purposely 
 urged him in the present instance. I got a long and, as it seemed 
 to me, pitiful reply, in vague style and unmeaning phrases, stating 
 that without a better place, he could not fix himself, and offer me 
 his hand ; that I best knew how hard it had fared with him hither- 
 to ; that as he was afraid lest a fruitless intercourse, so long con- 
 tinued, might prove hurtful to my reputation, I would give him 
 leave to continue at his present distance ; so soon as it was in his 
 power to make me happy, he would look upon the word which he 
 had given me as sacred. 
 
 I answered him on the spot, that as our intercourse was known to 
 all the world, it might perliaps be rather late to spare my reputa- 
 tion ; for which, at any rate, my conscience and my innocence were 
 the surest pledges ; however, that I hereby freely gave liim back his 
 word, and hoped the change would prove a happy one for him. The 
 same hour I received a short reply, which was, in all essential par- 
 ticulars, entirely synonymous with the first. He adhered to his 
 former statement, that so soon as he obtained a situatibn, he would 
 ask me, if I pleased to share his fortune with him. 
 
 This I interpreted as meaning simply nothing. I signified to my 
 relations and acquaintances, that the affair was altogether settled ; 
 and it was so in fact. Having, nine months afterwards, obtained 
 the much-desired perferment, he offered me his hand ; but under 
 the condition, that as tlie wife of a man who must keep house like
 
 BOOK VI. 283 
 
 other people, I slioiild alter my opinions. I returned Inm many 
 tlianks ; and hastened with my heart and mind away from this 
 transaction ; as one hastens fro m the playhouse when the curtain 
 falls. And as he, a short time afterwards, liad fo>ind a rich and 
 advantageous match, a thing now easy for him ; and as I now knew 
 him to be happy iu the way he liked, my own tranquillity was quite 
 complete 
 
 I must not pass in silence the fact, that several times before he got 
 a place, and after it, there were respectable proposals made to me ; 
 which, however, I declined without the smallest hesitation, much as 
 my father and my mother could have wished for more compliance 
 on my part. 
 
 At length, after a- stormy March and April, the loveliest May 
 weather seemed to be allotted me. With good health, I enjoyed an 
 indescribable composure of mind : look around me as I pleased, my 
 loss appeared a gain to me. Young and full of sensibility, 1 thought 
 the universe a thoiisand times more beautiful than formerly, when 
 I required to have society and play, that in the fair garden tedium 
 might not overtake me. And now, as I did not conceal my piety, I 
 likewise took heart to own my love for the sciences and arts. I 
 drew, painted, read ; and found enough of people to support me : in- 
 stead of the great world, which I had left, or rather which had left 
 me, a smaller one formed itself about me, which was infinitely richer 
 and more entertaining. I had a turn for social life ; and I do not 
 deny that, on giving iip my old acquaintances, I trembled at the 
 thought of solitude. I now found myself abundantly, perhaps ex- 
 cessively, indemnified. My acquaintances ere long were very niimer- 
 ous ; not at home only, but likewise among people at a distance. 
 My story had been noised abroad ; and many persons felt a curiosity 
 to see the woman who had valued God above her bridegroom. There 
 was a certain pious tone to be observed, at the time, generally over 
 Germany. In the families of several counts and princes, a care for 
 the welfare of the soul had been awakened. Nor were there wanting 
 noblemen who showed a like attention ; while in the inferior classes, 
 sentiments of this kind were diffused on every side. 
 
 The noble family, whom I mentioned above, now drew me nearer 
 to them. They had, in the meanwhile, gathered strength ; several 
 of their relations having settled in the town. These estimable per- 
 sons courted my familiarity, as I did theirs. They had high connec- 
 tions ; I became acquainted, in their house, with a great part of the 
 princes, counts, and lords of the empire. My sentiments were not 
 concealed from any one ; they might be honored or be tolerated ; I 
 obtained my object, none attacked me. 
 
 There was yet another way, by which I was again led back into 
 the world. About this period, a step-brother of my father, who till 
 now had never visited the house, except in passing, stayed with us 
 for a considerable time. He had left the service of his court, where
 
 284 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 he enjoyed great influence and lionor, simply because all matters 
 were not managed quite according to his mind. His intellect was 
 just, his character was rigid. In these points he was very like my 
 father ; only the latter had withal a certain touch of softness, which 
 enabled him with greater ease to yield a little in affairs, and though 
 not to do, yet to permit, some things against his own conviction ; and 
 then to evaporate his anger at them, either in silence by himself, or 
 in confidence amid his family. My uncle was a great deal younger ; 
 and his independence of spirit had been favored by his outward cir- 
 cumstances. His mother had been very rich ; and he still had large 
 possessions to expect from her near and distant relatives ; so he 
 needed no foreign increase ; whereas my father, with his moderate 
 fortune, was bound to his place by the consideration of his salary. 
 
 My uncle had become still more unbending from domestic suffer- 
 ings. He had early lost an amiable wife and a hopeful son ; and 
 from that time he appeared to wish to push away from him every- 
 thing that did not hang upon his individual will. 
 
 In our family it was whispered now and then, with some com- 
 placency, that probably he would not wed again, and so we children 
 might anticipate inheriting his fortune. I paid small regard to this ; 
 but the demeanor of the rest was not a little modified by their hopes. 
 In his own imperturbable firmness of character, my uncle had grown 
 into the habit or never contradicting any one in conversation. On 
 the other hand, he listened with a friendly air to everyone's opinion, 
 and would himself elucidate and strengthen it by in.stances and rea- 
 sons of his own. All wlio did not know him fancied that lie thought 
 as they did ; for he was possessed of a preponderating intellect, and 
 could transport himself into the mental state of any man, and imitate 
 his manner of conceiving. With me he did not prosper quite so 
 well ; for liere the question was about emotions, of which he had not 
 any glimpse ; and with whatever tolerance, and sympathy, and ra- 
 tionality he spoke about my sentiments, it was palpable to me that 
 he had not the slightest notion of what formed the ground of all my 
 conduct. 
 
 With all his secrecy, we by and by found out the aim of his unu- 
 sual stay with us. He had, as we at length discovered, cast his eyes 
 upon our youngest sister, with the view of giving her in marriage 
 and rendering her happy as he pleased ; and certainly, considering 
 her personal and mental attractions, particularly when a handsome 
 fortune was laid into the scale along with them, she might pretend 
 to the first matches. His feelings towards me lie likewise showed 
 us pantomimically, by procuring me a post of canoness, the income 
 of which I very soon began to draw. 
 
 My sister was not so contented with his care as T. She now dis- 
 closed to me a tender secret, which hitherto she l)ad very wisely kept 
 back ; fearing, as in truth it happened, that I would by all means 
 counsel her against connection with a man who was not suited to lier.
 
 BOOK VI. 285 
 
 I did my utmost, and succeeded. The purpose of ray uncle was too 
 serious and too distinct ; the prospect for my sister, with her worldly 
 views, was too delightful to be thwarted by a passion which her own 
 understanding disapproved : she mustered force to give it up. 
 
 On lier ceasing to resist the gentle guidance of my uncle, the found- 
 ation of his plan was quickly laid. She was appointed maid of honor 
 at a neighboring court, where he could commit her to the oversight 
 and the instructions of a lady, his friend, who presided there as gov- 
 eruess-inchief, with great applause. I accompanied her to the place 
 of her new abode. Both of us had reason to be satisfied with the 
 reception we met with ; and frequently I could not help, in secret, 
 smiling at the character, which now as canoness, as young and pious 
 canoness, I was enacting in the world. 
 
 In earlier times, a situation such as this would have confused me 
 dreadfully ; perhaps liave turned my head ; but now, in midst of 
 all the splendors that surrounded me, I felt extremely cool. With 
 great quietness, I let them frizzle me, and deck me out for hours ; 
 and thought no more of it than that my place required me to wear 
 that gala livery. In the thronged saloons, I spoke with all and cacli, 
 though no shape or character among them made any impression on 
 me. On returning to my house, nearly all the feeling I brought back 
 with me was that of tired limbs. Yet my understanding drew ad- 
 vantage from the multitude of persons whom I saw ; and I became 
 acquainted with some ladies, patterns of every virtue, of a noble and 
 good demeanor ; particularly with the governess-in-chief, under whom 
 my sister was to have the happiness of being formed. 
 
 At my return, however, the consequences of this journey, in re- 
 gard to health, were found to "be less favorable. With the greatest 
 temperance, the strictest diet, I had not been, as I used to be, com- 
 pletely mistress of my time and strength. Food, motion, rising and 
 going to sleep, dressing and visiting, had not depended, as at home, 
 on my own conveniency and will. In the circle of social life, you 
 cannot stop without a breach of courtesy : all that was needful I had 
 willingly performed ; because I looked upon it as my duty, because 
 I knew that it would soon be over, and because I felt myself com- 
 pletely healthy. Yet this unusual restless life must have had more 
 effect upon me than I was aware of. Scarcely had I reached home, 
 and cheered my parents with a comfortable narrative, when I was 
 attacked by a hemorrhage, which, although it did not prove dangerous 
 or lasting, yet left a weakness after it, perceptible for many a day. 
 
 Here, then, I had another lesson to repeat. I did it joyfully. 
 Nothing bound me to the world ; and I was convinced that here the 
 true good was never to be found ; so I waited in the cheerf ulest and 
 meekest state ; and after having abdicated life, I was retained in it. 
 
 A new trial was awaiting me : my mother took a painful and op- 
 pressive ailment, which she had to bear five years, before she paid 
 the debt of nature. All this time we were sharply proved. Often,
 
 386 ME18TER 'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 wlieu her terror grew too strong, slie would have us all summoned, 
 in the night, to her bed, that so at least she might be busied, if not 
 bettered, by our presence. The load grew heavier, nay, scarcely to be 
 borne, when my father too became unwell. From his youth, he had 
 frequently had violent headaches ; which, however, at longest never 
 used to last beyond six-and-thirty hours. But now they were con- 
 tinual ; and when the}- mounted to a high degree of pain, his moan- 
 ings tore my very heart It was in these tempestuous seasons that I 
 chiefly felt my bodily weakness ; because it kept me from my holiest 
 and dearest duties, or rendered the performance of them hard to an 
 extreme degree. 
 
 It was now that I could try whether the path, which I had chosen, 
 was th© path of phantasy or truth ; whether I had merely thought as 
 others showed me, or the object of my trust had a reality. To my 
 unspeakable support, I always found the latter. The straight direc- 
 tion of my heart to (iod, the fellowship of the " Beloved Ones"* I 
 had souglit and found ; and this was what made all things light to 
 me. As a traveler in tlie dark, my soul, when all was pressing on 
 me from without, hastened to the place of refuge, and never did it 
 return empty. 
 
 In later times, some champions of religion, who seem to be ani- 
 mated more by zeal than feeling for it, have required of tlieir brethren 
 to produce examples of prayers actually heard ; apparently as wish- 
 ing to have seal and signature, that so they might proceed juridicallj' 
 in the matter. How unknown must the true feeling be to these per- 
 sons ; how few real experiences can they themselves have made ! 
 
 I can say that I never returned empty, when in straits and oppres- 
 sions I called on God. This is saying' infinitely much ; more I must 
 not and cannot say. Important as each experience was at that criti- 
 cal moment for myself, the recital of them would be flat, improbable 
 and insignificant, were I to specify the separate cases. Happy was I, 
 that a thousand little incidents in combination proved, as clearly as 
 the drawing of my breath proved me to be living, that I was not with- 
 out God in the world. He was near to me, I was before him. This 
 is what, with a diligent avoidance of all theological systematic terms, 
 I can with the greatest truth declare. 
 
 Much do I wish that, in those times too, I had been entirely with- 
 out system. But which of us arrives early at the happiness of being 
 conscious of his individual self, in its own pure combination, without 
 extraneous forms V I was in earnest with religion. I timidly trusted 
 in the judgments of others ; I entii'ely gave in to the Halle system of 
 conversion ; but my nature would by no means tally with it. 
 
 According to this scheme of doctrine, the alteration of the heart 
 must begin with a deep terror on account of sin ; the heart in this 
 agony must recognize, in a less or greater degree, the punishment 
 
 * So in the original,— Ed,
 
 BOOK VL 287 
 
 which it has merited, must get a foretaste of hell, and so embitter 
 the delight of sin. At last it feels a very palpable assurance of grace ; 
 which, however, in its progress often fades away, and must again 
 be sought with earnest prayer. 
 
 Of all this no jot or tittle happened with me. When I sought God 
 sincerely, he let himself be fouud of me, and did not reproach me 
 about bygone things. On looking back, I saw well enough where I 
 had been unworthy, where I still was so ; but the confession of my 
 faults was altogether without terror. Not for a moment did the fear 
 of hell occur to me : nay, the very notion of a wicked spirit, and a 
 place of punishment and torment after death, could nowise gain ad- 
 mission into the circle of my thoughts. I considered the men who 
 lived without God, whose hearts were shut against the tru«t in and 
 the love of the Invisible, as already so unhappy that a hell and ex- 
 ternal pains appeared to promise rather an alleviation than an increase 
 of their misery. I had but to look upon the persons, in this world, 
 who in their breasts gave scope to hateful feelings ; who hardened 
 their hearts against the good of whatever kind, and strove to force 
 the evil on themselves and others ; who shut their eyes by day, that 
 so they might deny the shining of the sun. How unutterably 
 wretched did these persons seem to me ! Who could have formed a 
 hell to make their situation worse 't 
 
 This mood of mind continued in me, without change, for half a 
 score of years. It maintained itself through many trials : even at 
 the moving death-bed of my beloved mother. I was frank enough, 
 on this occasion, not to hide my comfortable frame of mind from cer- 
 tain pious but rigorously orthodox people ; and I had to suffer many 
 a friendly admonition on that' score. They reckoned they were just 
 in season for explaining with what earnestness one should be diligent 
 to lay a right foundation in the daj^s of health and youth. 
 
 In earnestness I too determined not to fail. For the moment, I 
 allowed myself to be convinced ; and fain would I have grown, for 
 life, distressed and full of fears. But what was my surprise on find- 
 ing tliat I absolutely could not ! When I thought of God, I was 
 cheerful and contented : even at the painful end of my dear mother, 
 I did not shudder at the thought of death. Yet I learned many and 
 far other things than my uncalled teachers thought of, in these sol- 
 emn hours. 
 
 By degrees, I grew to doubt the dictates of so many famous people, 
 and retained my own sentiments in silence. A certain lady of my 
 friends, to whom I had at first disclosed too much, insisted always on 
 interfering with my business. Of her too I was obliged to rid myself ; 
 I at last firmly told her, that she might spare herself this labor, as I 
 did not need her counsel : that I knew my God, and would have no 
 guide but him. She was greatly offended ; I believe she never quite 
 forgave me. 
 
 Such determination, to withdraw from the advice and tlie influence
 
 288 MEISTER'S apprenticeship. 
 
 of my friends, in spiritual matters, produced the consequence, that 
 also in my temporal affairs I gained sufficient courage to obey my 
 own persuasions. But for the assistance of my faithful Invisible 
 Leader, I could not have prospered here. I am still gratefully aston- 
 ished at his wise and happy guidance. No one knew how matters 
 stood with me ; even I myself did not know. 
 
 The thing, the wicked and inexplicable thing, which separates us 
 from the Being to whom we owe our life, and in whom all that 
 deserves the name of life must find its nourishment ; the thing which 
 we call sin, I yet knew nothing of. 
 
 In my intercourse with my Invisible Friend, I felt the sweetest 
 enjoyment of all my powers. My desire of constantly enjoying this 
 felicity© was so predominant, that I abandoned without hesitation 
 whatever mari-ed our intercourse ; and here experience was my best 
 teacher. But it was with me as with sick persons, who have no 
 medicine, and try to help themselves by diet. Something is accom- 
 plished, but far from enough. 
 
 I could not always live in solitude ; though in it I found the best 
 preservative against tlie dissipation of my thoughts. On returning 
 to the tumult, the impression it produced upon me was thedee])er for 
 my previous loneliness. My most peculiar advantage lay in this, 
 that love for quiet was my ruling passion, and that in the end I still 
 drew back to it. I perceived, as in a kind of twilight, my w^eakness 
 and my misery ; and tried to save myself by avoiding danger and 
 exposure. 
 
 For seven years, I had used my dietetic scheme. I held myself not 
 wicked, and" I thought my state desirable. But for some peculiar 
 circumstances and occurrences, I had remained in this position : it 
 was by a curious path that I got farther. Contrary to the advice of 
 all my friends, I entered on a new connection. Their objections, at 
 first, 'made me pause. I turned to my Invisible Leader, and, as he 
 permitted me, I went forward without fear. 
 
 A man of spirit, heart and talents had bought a property beside us. 
 Among the strangers whom I grow acquainted with, were this person 
 and his family. In our manners, domestic economy and habits we 
 accorded well ; and tlius Ave soon approximated to each other. 
 
 Philo, as I propose to call him, was already middle-aged : in cer- 
 tain matters he was highly serviceable to my father, whose strength 
 was now decaying. He soon became the friend of the family ; and 
 finding in me, as he was pleased to say, a person free alike from the 
 extravagance and emptiness of the great world, and from the narrow- 
 ness and aridness of tlie still world in the country, he courted inti- 
 macy with me, and ere long we were in one another's confidence. To 
 me he was very pleasing and useful. 
 
 Though I did not feel the smallest inclination or capacity for ming- 
 ling in public business, or seeking any infiuence on it, yet I liked to 
 hear al)out such matters, liked to know whatever happened far and
 
 nOOK Vi. 289 
 
 hear. Of wordly things, I loved to get a clear tliougli unconcerned 
 perception ; feeling, sympathy, affection, I reserved for God, for my 
 people and my friends. 
 
 The latter were, if I may say so, jealous of Philo, in my new con- 
 nection with him. In more than one sense, they were right in warn- 
 ing me about it. 1 suffered much in secret ; for even I could not 
 consider their remonstrances as altogether empty or selfish. I had 
 been accustomed, from of old, to give a reason for my views and con- 
 duct ; but in this case my conviction would not follow. I prayed to 
 God, that here as elsewhere he would warn, restrain and guide me ; 
 and as my heart on this did not dissuade me, I went forward on my 
 way with comfoft. 
 
 Philo, on the whole, had a remote resemblance to Narcisa*; only a 
 pious education had more enlivened and concentrated his feelings. 
 He had less vanity, more character ; and, in business, if Narciss was 
 delicate, exact, persevering, indefatigable, the other was clear, sharp, 
 quick and capable of working with incredible ease. By means of him, 
 I learned the secret history of almost every noble personage with 
 whose exterior I had got acquainted in society. It was pleasant for 
 me to behold the tumult, off my watch-tower, from afar. Philo 
 could now hide nothing from me ; he confided to me, by degrees, his 
 own concerns both inward and outward. I was in fear because of 
 him ; for I foresaw certain circumstances and entanglements ; and 
 the mischief came more speedily than I had looked for. There were 
 some confessions he had still kept back ; and even at last he tojd me 
 only what enabled me to guess the worst. 
 
 What an effect had this upon my heart ! I attained experiences 
 which to me were altogether new. With infinite sorrow I beheld an 
 Agathon, who, educated in the groves of Delphi, still owed his 
 school-fees, which he was now obliged to pay with their accumulated 
 interest ; and this Agathon was my especial friend. My sympathy 
 was lively and complete : I suffered with him ; both of us were in 
 the strangest state. 
 
 After having long occupied myself with the temper of his mind, 1 
 at last turned round to contemplate my own. The thought, " Thou 
 art no better than he," rose like a little cloud before me, and gradu- 
 ally expanded till it darkened all my soul. 
 
 I now not only thought myself no better than he ; I felt this, ami 
 felt it as I should not wish to do again. Nor was it any transitory 
 mood. For more than a year I was compelled to feel that, had not an 
 unseen hand restrained me, I might have become a Girard, a Car- 
 touch, a Damiens, or any wretch you can imagine. The tendencies 
 to this I traced too clearly to my heart. Heavens, what a discovery I 
 
 If hitherto I had never been able, in the faintest degree, to recog- 
 nize in myself the reality of sin by experience, its possibility was now 
 become apparent to me by anticipation, in the frightfulest manner. 
 Meister— ^10
 
 300 MEISTEE'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 And yet I knew not evil ; but I feared it : T felt that I might be guilty, 
 and could not accuse myself of being so. 
 
 Deeply as I was convinced that such a temperament of soul, as I 
 now saw mine to be, could never be adapted for that union with the 
 Invisible Being, which I hoped for after death ; 1 did not, in the 
 smallest, fear that 1 should finally be separated from him. With all the 
 Avickedness which I discovered in my heart, 1 still loved /lim ; I hated 
 what I felt, nay, wished to liate it still more earnestly ; my whole 
 desire was to be delivered from this siclcness, and this tendency to 
 sickness ; and I was persuaded that the (^Jreat Physician would at 
 length vouchsafe his help. 
 
 The sole question was : What medicine will cure this malady ? 
 The practice of virtue ? This 1 could not for a moment think. For 
 ten years, I had already practiced more than mere virtue ; and the_ 
 horrors now first discovered had, all the while, lain hidden at the bot- 
 tom of my soul. Might they not have broken out with me, as they 
 did with David when he looked on Bathsheba '! Yet was not he a 
 friend of God ; and Avas not I assured in my inmost heart that God 
 was my friend ? 
 
 Was it then an unavoidable infirmity of human nature ? Must we 
 just content ourselves in feeling and acknowledging the sovereignty 
 of inclination? And with the best will, is there nothing left for us 
 but to abhor the fault we have committed, and on the like occasion to 
 commit it again ? 
 
 From systems of morality I could obtain no comfort. Neither their 
 severity, by which they try to bend our inclinations, nor their at- 
 tractiveness, by which they try to please our inclinations on the side 
 of virtue, gave me any satisfaction. The fundamental notions, which 
 I had imbibed from intercourse with my Invisible Friend, were of far 
 higher value to me. 
 
 Once, while I was studying the songs composed by David after that 
 tremendous fall, it struck me very much that he traced his indwelling 
 corruption even in the substance out of which he had been shaped ; 
 yet that he wished to be freed from sin, and that he earnestly en- 
 treated for a pure heart. 
 
 But how was this to be attained? The answer from scripture 1 
 was well aware of : "that the blood of Jesus cleanseth usj'rom all 
 sin," was a Bible truth which I had long known. But now for the 
 first time, I observed that as yet I had never understood this oft- 
 repeated saying. The questions : W'hat does it mean ? How is it to 
 be ? were, day and night, working out their answers in me. At last I 
 thought I saw, by a gleam of light, that Avhat 1 sought was to be 
 foiTud in the incarnation of the everlasting \^'ord, by whom all things, 
 even we ourselves, were made. That the Eternal descended as an 
 inhabitant to the depths in which we dwell, which he surveys and 
 comprehends ; that he passed through our lot from stage to stage, 
 from conception and birth to the grave ; that by this marvelous circuit
 
 BOOK VL 2n 
 
 he again mounted to those shining heights, whither we too must rise 
 in order to be happy : all this was revealed to me, as in a dawning 
 remoteness. 
 
 Oh ! why must we, in speaking of such things, make use of figures, 
 which can only indicate external situations ! Where is there in His 
 eyes aught high or deep, aught dark or clear ! It is we only that 
 have an under and upper, a night and day. And even for this did He 
 became like us, since otherwise we could have had no part in Him. 
 
 But how shall we obtain a share in this priceless benefit? "By 
 faith," the scripture says. And what is faith? To consider the ac- 
 count of an event as true, what help can this afEord me ? I must be 
 enabled to ai)propriate its effects, its consequences. This appropri- 
 ating faith must be a state of mind peculiar, and to the natural man 
 unknown. 
 
 " Now, gracious Father, grant me faith ! " so prayed I once, in the 
 deepest heaviness of heart. I was leaning on a little table, where I 
 sat ; my tear-stained countenance was hidden in my hands. I was 
 now in the condition in which we seldom are, but in which we are 
 recjuired to be, if God is to regard our prayers. 
 
 O, that I could but paint what I felt then ! A sudden force drew 
 my soul to the cross where Jesus once expired ; it was a sudden force, 
 a pull, I cannot name it otherwise, such as leads our soul to an absent 
 loved one ; an approximation, which perhaps is far more real and 
 true than we imagine. So did my soul approach the Son of Man, 
 who had died upon the cross ; and that instant did I know what faith 
 was. 
 
 "This is faith ! ' said I ; and started up as if half frightened. I 
 now endeavored to get certain of my feeling, of my view ; and shortly 
 I became convinced that my soul had acquired a power of soaring up- 
 wards, which was altogether new to it. 
 
 Words fail us in describing such emotions. I could most distinctly 
 separate them from all phantasy : they were entirely without phan- 
 tasy, without image ; yet they gave us just such certainty of their 
 referring to some object, as our imagination gives us when it paints 
 the features of an absent lover. 
 
 When the first rapture was over, I observed that my present condi- 
 tion of mind had formerly been known to me ; only I had never felt 
 it in such strength ; I had never held it fast, never made it mine. I 
 believe, indeed, every human soul at intervals feels something of it. 
 Doubtless it is this which teaches every mortal that there is a (iod. 
 
 With such faculty, wont from of old to visit me now and then, I 
 had hitherto been well content ; and had not, by a singular arrange- 
 ment of events, that unexpected sorrow weighed upon me for a 
 twelvemonth ; had not my own ability and strength, on that occasion, 
 altogether lost credit with me ; I perhaps might have remained con- 
 tent with such a state of matters all my days. 
 
 But now, since that great moment, I had as it were got wings. I
 
 292 MEISTER'S APPBENTIVE8HIP. 
 
 could mount aloft above what used to threaten me ; as the bird can 
 fly singing and with ease across the fiercest stream, while the little 
 dog stands anxiously baying on the bank. 
 
 My joy was indescribable ; and though I did not mention it to any 
 one, my people soon observed an unaccustomed cheerfulness in me, 
 and could not understand the reason of my joy. Had I but forever 
 held my peace, and tried to nourish this serene temper in my soul ! 
 had I not allowed myself to be misled by circumstances, so as to 
 reveal my secret ! I might then have been saved, once more, a long 
 and tedious circuit. 
 
 As in the previous ten years of my Christian course, this necessary 
 force had not existed in my soul, I had just been in the case of other 
 worthy people ; had helped myself by keeping niy fancy always full 
 of images, which had some reference to God : a practice so far truly 
 useful; for noxious images and their baneful consequences are by 
 that means kept away. Often, too, our spirit seizes one or other of 
 these spiritual images, and mounts with it a little way upwards ; like 
 a young bird fluttering from twig to twig. 
 
 Images and impressions pointing towards God are presented to us 
 by the institutions of the cliurch, by organs, bells, singing, and par- 
 ticularly by the preaching of our pastors. Of these. I used to be un- 
 speakably desirous ; no weapon, no bodily weakness could keep me 
 from church ; the sound of the Sunday bells was the only thing that 
 rendered me impatient on a sick-bed. Our head court chaplain, a 
 gifted man, I heard with great pleasure ; his colleagues too I liked ; 
 and I could pick the golden apple of the word from the common fruity 
 with which on earthen platters it was mingled. With public ordi- 
 nances, all sorts of private execises were combined ; and these too 
 only nourished fancy and a finer kind of sense. I was so accustomed 
 to this track, I reverenced it so much, that even now no higher one 
 occurred to me. For my soul has only feelers, and not eyes ; it, 
 gropes, but does not see. Ah ! that it could get eyes and look. 
 
 Now again, therefore, I went with a longing mind to sermon ; but 
 alas, what happened ! I no longer found what I was wont to find. 
 These preachers were blunting their teeth on the shell, while I en- 
 joyed the kernel. I soon grew weary of them ; and I had already 
 been so spoiled, that I could not be content with the little they 
 afforded me. I required images, 1 wanted impressions from without ; 
 and reclioned it a pure spiritual desire that I felt. 
 
 Philo's parents had been in connection with the Herrnhuter com- 
 munity ; in his library were many writings of Count Zinzendorf's. 
 He had spoken with me, more than once, very candidly and clearly 
 on the subject ; inviting me to turn over one or two of these treatises, 
 if it were but for the sake of studying a psychological phenomenon. 
 I looked upon the count, and those that followed him, as very heter- 
 odox ; and so the Ebersdorf hymn-book, which my friend had pressed 
 upon me, lay unread.
 
 BOOK VI. 393 
 
 However, in this total destitution of external excitements for my 
 soul, I opened the hymn-book, as it were by chance ; and found in 
 it, to my astonishment, some songs which actually, thouo-h under a 
 fantastic form, appeared to shadow what 1 felt. The originality and 
 simplicity of their expression drew me on. It seemed to be peculiar 
 emotions expressed in a peculiar way ; no school technology sug- 
 gested any notion of formality or commonplace. I was persuaded 
 that these people felt as I did : I was very happy to lay hold of here 
 and there a stanza in their songs, to fix it in my memory, and carry 
 it about with me for days. 
 
 Since the moment when the truth had been revealed to me, some 
 three mouths had in this way passed on. At last I came to the resolu- 
 tion of disclosing everything to Philo, and asking him to let me have 
 those writings, about which I had now become immoderately curious. 
 Accordingly I did so, notwithstanding there was something in my 
 heart which earnestly dissuaded me. 
 
 I circumstantially related to him all the story ; and, as he was 
 himself a leading person in it, and my narrative conveyed the sliarp- 
 est reprimand on him, he felt surprised and moved to an extreme 
 degree. He melted into tears. I rejoiced ; believing that, in his 
 mind also, a full and fundamental change had taken place. 
 
 He provided me with all the writings I could require ; and now I 
 had excess of nourishment for my imagination. I made rapid pro- 
 gress in the Zinzendorfic mode of thought and speech. And be it 
 not supposed that I am yet incapable of prizing the peculiar turn 
 and manner of the count. I willingly do him justice ; he is no empty 
 phautast ; he speaks of mighty truths, and mostly in a bold figura- 
 tive style ; the people who despise him know not either how to 
 value or discriminate his qualities. 
 
 At that time, I became exceedingly attached to him. Had I been 
 mistress of myself, I would certainly have left my friends and coun- 
 try, and gone to join liim. We should infallibly have understood 
 each other, and should hardly have agreed together long. 
 
 Thanks to my better genius that now kept me so confined by my 
 dome.stic duties. I reckoned it a distant journey if I visited the gar- 
 den. The charge of my aged weakly father afforded me employment 
 enough, and in hours of recreation, I had fancy to procure me pas- 
 time. The only mortal whom I saw was Philo ; he was highly 
 valued by my father ; but with me, his intimacy had been cooled a 
 little by tlie late explanation. Its influence on him had not pene- 
 trated deep ; and as some attempts to talk in my dialect had not 
 succeeded with him, he avoided touching on this subject ; and the 
 rather, as his extensive knowledge put it always in his power to in- 
 troduce new topics in his conversation. 
 
 I was thus a Herrnhut sister on my own footing. I had especially 
 to hide tliis new turn of my temper and my inclinations from the 
 h^ad court chaplain ; whom, as my father coofessorj I had much
 
 294 MEISTER 'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 cause to lionor ; and whose liigh merits liis extreme aversion to the 
 Herrnhut community did not diminish, in my eyes, even then. Un- 
 happily this worthy person had to suffer many troubles on account 
 of me and others. 
 
 Several years ago, he had become acquainted with an upright pious 
 gentleman, residing in a distant quarter ; and had long continued in 
 unbroken correspondence with him, as with one who truly sought 
 God. How painful was it vvith the spiritual leader, when this gen- 
 tleman subsequently joined himself to the community of Herrnhut, 
 where he lived for a lon'g while ! How delightful, on the other 
 hand, when at length lie quarreled with the brethren ; determined 
 to settle in our neighborhood ; and seemed once more to yield him- 
 self completely to the guidance of his ancient friend ! 
 
 The stranger was presented, as in triumph, by the upper pastor of 
 all the chosen lambs of his fold. To our house alone he was not 
 introduced, because my father did not now see company. The gen- 
 tleman obtained no little approbation : he combined the polish of the 
 court with the winning manner of the brethren ;' and having also 
 many fine qualities by nature, he soon became the favorite saint with 
 all who knew him ; a result at which the chaplain was exceedingly 
 contented. But, alas ! it was merely in externals that the gentle- 
 man had split with the community ; in his heart he was yet entirely 
 a Herrnhuter. He was, in truth, concerned for the reality of the 
 matter ; but yet the gimcracks which the count had stuck round it 
 were, at the same time, quite adapted to his taste. Besides, he had 
 now become accustomed to this mode of speaking and conceiving ; 
 and if he had to hide it carefully from his old friend, the gladder 
 was he, in any knot of trusty persons, to come forth with his 
 couplets, litanies and little figures ; in which, as might have been 
 supposed, he met with great applause. 
 
 I knew nothing of the whole affair, and wandered quietly along in 
 my separate path. For a good while we continued mutually un- 
 known. 
 
 Once, in a leisure hour, I happened to visit a lady who was sick. 
 I found several acquaintances with her ; and soon perceived that my 
 appearance had cut short their conversation. I affected not to notice 
 anything ; but saw ere long, with great surprise, some Herrnhut 
 figures stuck upon the wall in elegant frames. Quickly comprehend- 
 ing what had passed before my entrance, 1 expressed my pleasure at 
 the sight, in a few suitable verses. 
 
 Conceive the wonder of my friends ! We explained ourselves ; in- 
 stantly we were agreed, and in each other's confidence. 
 
 I often henceforth sought opportunities of going out. Unhappily 
 I found such only once in the three or four weeks ; ytt I grew ac- 
 quainted with our gentleman apostle, and by degrees with all the 
 body. I visited their meetings, when I could : with my social dispo- 
 sition, it was quite delightful for me to communicate to others, and
 
 BOOK VI. 295 
 
 to hear from them, the feelings which, till now, I had conceived and 
 harbored by myself. 
 
 But I was not so conn3letely taken with my friends, as not to see 
 that few of them could really feel the sense of those affecting words 
 and emblems ; and that from these they drew as little benefit, as 
 formerly they did from the symbolic language of the church. Yet, 
 notwithstanding, I went on with them, not letting this disturb me. 
 I thought, I was not called to search and try the hearts of others. 
 Had not I too, by long-continued innocent exercisings of that sort, 
 been prepared for something better? I had my share of profit from 
 our meetings ; in speaking, I insisted on attending to the sense and 
 spirit, which, in things so delicate, is rather apt to be disguised by 
 words than indicated by them ; and for the rest, I left, with silent 
 tolerance, each to act according to his own conviction. 
 
 These quiet times of secret social joy were shortly followed by 
 storms of open bickering and contradiction ; contentions which ex- 
 cited great commotion, 1 might almost say occasioned not a little 
 scandal, in court and town. The period was now arrived when our 
 chaplain, that stout gainsayer of the Ilerrnhut brethren, must dis- 
 cover, to his deep, but I trust, sanctified humiliation, that his best 
 and once most zealous hearers were now all leaning to the side of 
 that community. He was excessively provoked : in the first mo- 
 ments, he forgot all moderation ; and could not, even if he had in- 
 clined it, retract afterwards. Violent debates took place ; in which 
 happily I was not mentioned ; both as being but an accidental mem- 
 ber of those hated meetings ; and then because, in respect of certain 
 civic matters, our zealous preacher could not safely disoblige either 
 my father or my friend. With silent satisfaction, 1 continued neutral. 
 It was irksome to me to converse about such feelings and objects, 
 even with well-affected people, when they could not penetrate the 
 deepest sense, and lingered merely on the surface. But to strive 
 with adversaries, about things on which even friends could scarcely 
 understand each other, seemed to me unprofitable, nay, pernicious. 
 For I soon perceived that many amialde nolilemen, who on this occur- 
 rence could but shut their hearts to enmity and hatred, had rapidly 
 passed over to injustice ; and in order to defend an outward form, 
 liad almost sacrificed their most substantial duties. 
 
 Far as the worthy clergyman might, in the present case, be wrong ; 
 much as others tried tP irritate me at him, I could never hesitate to 
 give him my sincere respect. I knew him well ; I could candidly 
 transport myself into his way of looking at the.se matters. I have 
 never seen a man without his weaknesses ; only, in distinguished 
 men they strike us more. We wish, and will at all rates have it, 
 that persons privileged as they are .should at the same time pay no 
 tribute, ni> tax whatever. I honored him as a superior man ; and 
 hoped to use the influence of my calm neutrality to bring about, if 
 not a peace, at least a truce. I know not what my efforts might have
 
 S96 MEI8TER '8 APPRENTICESIIIP. 
 
 doue ; but God concluded tlie affair more briefly, aud took tbe cbap- 
 lain to himself. On his coffin all wept, who had lately been striving 
 with him about words. His uprightness, his fear of God, no one 
 had ever doubted. 
 
 I too was, ere long, forced to lay aside this Herrnhut doll- work, 
 which, by means of these contentions, now appeared before me in a 
 rather different light. Our uncle had, in silence, executed his inten- 
 tions with my sister. He offered her a young man of rank and for- 
 tune as a bridegroom ; and showed, by a rich dowry, what might be 
 expected of himself. My father joyfully consented ; my sister was 
 free and forewarned, she did not hesitate to change her state. The 
 bridal was appointed at my uncle's castle ; family and friends were 
 all invited ; and we came together in the cheerfulest mood. 
 
 For the first time in my life, the aspect of a house excited admira- 
 tion in me. I had often heard of my uncle's taste, of his Italian 
 architect, of his collections and his library ; but, comparing this with 
 what I had already seen, I had formed a very vague and fluctuating 
 picture of it in my thoughts. Great, accordingly, was my surprise at 
 the earnest and harmonious impression which I felt on entering the 
 house, and which every hall and chamber deepened. If elsewhere 
 pomp and decoration had but dissipated my attention, I felt here con- 
 centrated and drawn back upon myself. In like manner the prepara- 
 tives for these solemnities and festivals produced a silent pleasure, by 
 their air of dignity and splendor ; and to me it seemed as incon- 
 ceivable that one man could have invented and arranged all this, as 
 that more than one could have worked together in so high a spirit. 
 Yet withal, the landlord and his people were entirely natural ; not a 
 trace of stiffness or of empty form was to be seen. 
 
 The wedding itself was managed in a striking way ; an exquisite 
 strain of vocal music came upon us by surprise ; and the clergyman 
 went through th^ ceremony with a singular solemnity. I was stand- 
 ing by Philo at the time ; and instead of a congratulation, he whis- 
 pered in my ear : " When I saw your sister give away her hand, I 
 felt as if a stream of boiling water had been poured over me." 
 " Why so?" I inquired. " It is always the way with me," said he, 
 '• when I see two people joined." I laughed at him ; but I have 
 often since had cause to recollect his words. 
 
 The revel of the party, among whom were many young people, 
 looked particularly glittering and airy, as everything around us was 
 dignified and serious. The furniture, plate, table-ware and table orna- 
 ments accorded with the general whole ; and if in other houses you 
 would say the architect was of the school of the confectioner, it here 
 appeared as if our confectioner and butler had taken lessons from the 
 architect. 
 
 We stayed together several days ; and our intelligent and gifted 
 landlord had variedly provided for the entertainment of his guests. I 
 did not in the present case repeat the melancholy jtroof, which has so
 
 BOOK VI. 297 
 
 often in my life been forced upon me, how unhappily a large mixed 
 company are situated, when, altogether left to themselves, they have 
 to select the most general and vapid pastimes, that the fools of the 
 party may not want amusement, however it may fare with those that 
 are not such. 
 
 My uncle had arranged it altogether differently. Two or three 
 marshals, if I may call them so, had been appointed by him : one of 
 them had charge of providing entertainment for the young. Dances, 
 excursions, little games, were of his invention, and under his direc- 
 tion ; and as young people take delight in being out of doors, and do 
 not fear the intlueuces of the air, the garden and garden-hall had 
 been assigned to them ; while some additional pavilions and galleries 
 had been erected and appended to the latter, formed of boards and 
 canvas merely, but in sucli jiroportions, so elegant and noble, they 
 reminded one of nothing but stone and marble. How rare is a festi- 
 vity in which the person who invites the guests feels also that it is 
 his duty to provide for their conveniences and wants of every kind ! 
 Hunting and card parties, short promenades, opportunities for trust- 
 ful private conversations, were afforded the elder persons ; and who- 
 ever wished to go earliest to bed was sure to be lodged the farthest 
 from noise. 
 
 By this happy order, the space we lived in appeared to be a little 
 world ; and yet, considered narrowly, the castle was not large ; with- 
 out an accurate knowledge of it, and without the spirit of its owner, 
 it would have been impossible to entertain so many people here, and 
 quarter each according to his humor. 
 
 As the aspect Oi." a well-formed person pleases us, so also does a 
 fair establishment, by means of which the presence of a rational 
 intelligent mind is manifested. We feel a joy in entering even a 
 cleanly house, though it may be tasteless in its structure and its 
 decorations ; because it shows us the presence of a person cultivated 
 in at least one sense. Doubly pleasing is it, therefore, when from a 
 human dwelling, the spirit of a higher though merely sensual culture 
 speaks to us. 
 
 All this was vividly impressed on my observation at my uncle's 
 castle. I had heard and read much of art ; Philo too was a lover of 
 pictures, and had a fine collection ; I myself, had often practiced 
 drawing ; but I had been too deeply occupied with my emotions striv- 
 ing exclusively after the one thing needful, which alone I was bent 
 on carrying to perfection ; and then such objects of art as I had hith- 
 erto seen, appeared, like all other worldly objects, to distract my 
 thoughts. But now, for the first time, outward things had led me 
 back upon myself : I now first perceived the difference between the 
 natural charm of the nightingale's song, and that of a four- voice an- 
 them pealed from the expressive organs of men. 
 
 My joy over this discovery I did not liide from my uncle ; who, 
 when all the rest were settled at their posts, was wont to come and
 
 298 MEISTER'8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 talk with me in private. He spoke with great modesty of what he 
 possessed and had produced here ; with great decision, of the views 
 in which it had been gathered and arranged : and I could easily ob- 
 serve that he spoke with a forbearance towards me ; seeming in his 
 usual way, to rate the excellence which he himself possessed, below 
 that other excellence, which, in my way of thinking, was the best 
 and properest. 
 
 "If we can conceive it possible," he once observed, "that the 
 Creator of the world himself assumed the form of his creature, and 
 lived in that manner for a time upon earth, this creature must appear 
 of infinite perfection, because susceptible of s.uch a combination with 
 its Maker. Hence, in our idea of man there can be no inconsistency 
 with our idea of God : and if we often feel a certain disagreement 
 with him and remoteness from him, it is but the more on that account 
 our duty, not like advocates of the wicked spirit, to keep our eyes 
 continually upon the nakedness and weakness of our nature ; but 
 rather to seek out every property and beauty, by which our pretension 
 to the similarity with, the Divinity may be made good." 
 
 I smiled and answered : ' ' Do not make me blush, dear uncle, by 
 your complaisance in talking in my language ! What you have to 
 say is of such importance to me, that I wish to hear it in your own 
 most peculiar style ; and then what parts of it I cannot quite appro- 
 priate, I will endeavor to translate." 
 
 " I may continue," he replied, "in my own most peculiar way, 
 without any alteration of my tone. Man's highest merit always is, 
 as much as possible to rule external circumstances, and as little as 
 possible to let himself be ruled by them. Life lies before us, as a 
 liuge quarry lies before the architect ; he deserves not the name of 
 architect, except when, out of this fortuitous mass, he can combine, 
 with the greatest economy, and fitness, and durability, some form, 
 the pattern of which originated in his spirit. All things without us, 
 nay, I may add, all things on us, are mere elements ; but deep within 
 us lies the creative force, which out of these can produce what they 
 were meant to be ; and which leaves us neither sleep nor rest, till in 
 one way or another, without us or on us, that same have been pro- 
 duced. You, my dear niece, have, it maybe, chosen the better part : 
 you have striven to bring your moral being, your earnest lovely nature 
 iuto accordance with itself and with the Highest : but neither ought 
 we to be blamed, when we strive to get acquainted with the sentient 
 man in all his comprehensiveness, and to bring about an active har- 
 mony among his powers." 
 
 By such discoursing, we in time grew more familiar ; and I begged 
 of him to speak with me as witli himself, omitting every sort of con- 
 descension. "Do not think," replied my uncle, "that I flatter you 
 when I commend your mode of thinking and acting. I reverence the 
 individual who understands distinctly what it is he wishes ; who un- 
 weariedly advances, who knows the means conducive to his object,
 
 r>^\jj\. V ±. 
 
 and can seize and use them. How far his object may be great or little, 
 may merit praise or censure, is the next consideration with me. Be- 
 lieve me, love, most part of all the misery and mischief, or all that is 
 denominated evil in the world, arises from the fact that men are too 
 remiss to get a proper knowledge of their aims, and when they do 
 know them, to work intensely in attaining them. They seem to me 
 like people who have taken up a notion, that they must and will erect 
 a tower, and who yet expend on the foundation not more stones and 
 labor than would be sufficient for a hut. If you, my friend, whose 
 highest want is to perfect and unfold your moral nature, had, instead 
 of those bold and noble sacrifices, merely trimmed between your 
 duties to yourself and to your family, your bridegroom, or perhaps 
 your husband, you must have lived in constant contradiction v/ith 
 your feelings, and never could have had a peaceful moment." 
 
 " You employ the word sacrifice," I answered here, "and I have 
 often thought that to a higher purpose, as to a divinity, we offer up, by 
 way of sacrifice, a thing of smaller value ; feeling like persons who 
 should willingly and gladly bring a favorite lamb to the altar for the 
 health of a beloved father." 
 
 " Whatever it may be," said he, " reason or feeling, that commands 
 us to give up the one thing for the other, to choose the one before the 
 other, decision and perseverance are, in my opinion, the noblest quali- 
 ties of man. You cannot have the ware and the money both at once ; 
 and lie who always hankers for the ware without having heart to give 
 the money for it, is no better off than he who repents him of the pur- 
 chase when the ware is in his hands. But I am far from blaming 
 men on this account ; it is not they that are to blame ; it is the diffi- 
 cult, entangled situation they are in ; they know not how to guide 
 themselves in its perplexities. Thus, for instance, you will on the 
 average find fewer bad economists in the country than in towns, and 
 fewer again in small towns than in great ; and why ? Man is intended 
 for a limited condition ; objects that are simple, near, determinate, he 
 comprehends, and he becomes accustomed to employ such means as 
 are at hand : but on entering a wider field, he now knows neither 
 what he would nor what he should ; and it amounts to quite the 
 same, whether his attention is distracted by the multitude of objects, 
 or is overpowered by their magnitude and dignity. It is always a 
 misfortune for him, when he is induced to struggle after anything, 
 with which he cannot connect himself by some regular exertion of his 
 powers. 
 
 " Certainly," pursued he, " without earnestness there is nothing to 
 be done in life ; yet among the people whom we name cultivated men, 
 little earnestness is to be found ; in labors and employments, in arts, 
 nay, even in recreations, they proceed, if I may say so, with a sort of 
 self-defense ; they live, as they read a heap of newspapers, only to 
 have done with it ; they remind one of that young Englishman at 
 Borne, who said, with a contented air, one evening in some company,
 
 300 MEISTEB'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 that to-day he had dispatched six churches and two galleries. They 
 wish to knovv and learn a multitude of things, and precisely those 
 they have the least concern with ; and they never see that hunger is 
 not stilled by snapping at the air. When I become acquainted with a 
 man, my first inquiry is : With what does he employ himself, and 
 how, and with what degree of perseverance? The answer regulates 
 the interest I shall take in him for life." 
 
 " My dear uncle," I replied, "you are perhaps too rigorous; you 
 perhaps withdraw your helping hand from here and there a worthy 
 man, to whom you might be useful." 
 
 " Can it be imputed as a fault," said he, " to one who has so long 
 and vainly labored on them and about them ? How much we have to 
 suffer, in our youth, from men wlio think they are inviting us to a 
 delightful pleasure party, when they undertake to introduce us to the 
 Danaides or Sisyphus ! Heaven be praised ! I have rid myself of 
 these people ; if one of them unfortunately comes within my sphere, 
 I forthwitli, in the politest manner, compliment him out again. It is 
 from such persons that you hear the bitterest complaints about the 
 miserable course of things, the aridity of science, the levity of artists, 
 the emptiness of poets, and much more of that sort. They do not 
 recollect that they, and the many like them, are the very persons who 
 would never read a book which had been written just as they require 
 it ; that true poetry is alien to them ; that even an excellent work of 
 of art can never gain their approbation, except by means of preju- 
 dice. But let us now break off, for this is not the time to rail or to 
 complain." 
 
 He directed my attention to the different pictures hanging on the 
 wall ; my eye dwelt on those whose look was beautiful or subject 
 striking. This he permitted for a while ; at last he said :. " Bestow 
 a little notice on the spirit manifested in these other works. Good 
 minds delight to trace the finger of the Diety in nature : why not like- 
 wise pay some small regard to the hand of his imitator ? " He then 
 led my observation to some unobtrusive figures ; endeavoring to make 
 me understand that it was the history of art alone whicli could give 
 us an idea of the worth and dignity of any work of art ; that we 
 should know the weary steps of mere handicraft and mechanism over 
 which the man of talents lias struggled in the course of centuries, 
 before we can conceive how it is possible for the man of genius to 
 move with airy freedom, on the pinnacle whose very aspect makes us 
 giddy. 
 
 With this view he had formed a beautiful series of works ; and 
 whilst he explained it, I could not lielp conceiving that I saw before 
 me a similitude of moral culture. When I expressed my thought to 
 him, he answered : ' ' You are altogether right ; and we see from this, 
 that those do not act well, who, in a solitary, exclusive manner, 
 follow moral cultivation by itself. On tlie contrary, it will be found 
 that he whose spirit strives for a development of that kind, has like-
 
 BOOK ri. 301 
 
 "wise every reason, at tlie same time, to improve his finer sentient 
 powers ; that so he may not run the risk of sinking from his moral 
 height, by giving way to the enticements of a lawless fancy, and 
 degrading his moral nature by allowing it to take delight in tasteless 
 baubles, if not in something worse." 
 
 1 did not suspect him of leveling at me ; but 1 felt myself struck, 
 when 1 reflected how many insipidities there might be in the songs 
 tl^t used to edify me ; and how little favor the figures, which had 
 joined themselves to my religious ideas, would have found in the 
 eyes of my uncle. 
 
 Philo, in the meantime, had frequently been busied in the library. 
 He now took me along with him. We admired the selection, as well 
 as the multitude of books. They had been collected on my uncle's 
 general principle ; there were none to be found among them but 
 such as either lead to correct knowledge or teach right arrangement ; 
 such as either give us fit materials or further the concordance of our 
 spirit. 
 
 In the course of my life I had read very largely : in certain 
 branches, there was almost no work unknown to me : the more 
 pleasant was it here to speak about the general survey of the whole ; 
 to mark deficiencies, and not, as elsewhere, see nothing but a ham- 
 pered confusion or a boundless expansion. 
 
 Here, too, we became acquainted with a very interesting, quiet 
 man. He was a physician and a naturalist ; he seemed rather one of 
 the penates than of the inmates. He showed us the museum, which, 
 like the library, was fixed in glass cases to the walls of the cham- 
 bers ; adorning and ennobling the space, which it did not crowd. On 
 this occasion 1 recalled with joy the days of my youth, and showed 
 my father many of the things he had been wont to lay upon the sick 
 bed of his little child, just opening its little eyes to look into the 
 world then. At the same time, the physician, in our present and 
 following conversations, did not scruple to avow how near he ap- 
 proximated to me in respect to my religious sentiments ; he warmly 
 praised my uncle for his tolerance, and his esteem of all that testi- 
 fied or forwarded the worth and unity of human nature ; admitting 
 also, that he called for a similar return from others, and would shun 
 and condemn nothing else so heartily as individual pretension and 
 narrow exclusiveness. 
 
 Since the nuptials of my sister, joy had sparkled in the eyes of our 
 uncle : he often spoke with me of what he meant to do for her and 
 for her children. He had several fine estates ; he managed them 
 himself, and hoped to leave them in the best condition to his 
 nephews. Regarding the small estate where we at present were, he 
 appeared to entertain peculiar thoughts. " I will leave it to none," 
 said he, "but to a person who can understand and value and enjoy 
 what it contains, and who feels how loudly every man of wealth and 
 rank, especially in (Germany, is called on to exhibit something like a 
 model to others. "
 
 302 MEISTER 'S A PPR ENTICEBitTP. 
 
 Most of his guests were now gone ; we too were making ready for 
 departure, thinking we had seen the final scene of this solemnity, 
 when his attention in affording us some dignified enjoyment pro- 
 duced a new surprise. We had mentioned to liim the delight which 
 the chorus of voices, suddenly commencing without accompaniment 
 of any instrument, had given us, at my sister's marriage. We 
 hinted, at the same time, liow pleasant it would be w^ere such a 
 thing repeated ; but he seemed to pay no heed to us. The livelier 
 was our surprise, when he said one evening : " The music of the 
 dance has died away ; our transitory, youthful friends have left us ; 
 the happy pair themselves have a more serious look.than they had 
 some days ago ; to part at such a time, when perhaps we shall never 
 meet again, certainly never without changes, exalts us to a solemn 
 mood, which I know not how to entertain more nobly than by the 
 music you were lately signifying a desire to have repeated." 
 
 The chorus, which had in the meanwhile gathered strength, and 
 by secret practice more expertness, was accordingly made sing to us 
 a series of four and of eight-voiced melodies, which, if I may say so, 
 gave a real foretaste of bliss. Till then I had only known the pious 
 mode of singing, as good souls practice it, frequently with hoarse 
 pipes, imagining, like wild birds, that they are praising (iod, while 
 they procure a pleasant feeling to themselves. Or perhaps I had lis- 
 tened to the vain music of concerts, in which you are at best invited 
 to admire the talent of the singer, and very seldom have even a 
 transient enjoyment. Now, however, I was listening to music, 
 which, as it originated in the deepest feeling of the most accom- 
 plished human beings, was, by suitable and practiced organs in har- 
 monious unity, made again to address the deepest and best feelings 
 of man, and to impress him at that moment with a lively sense of 
 his likeness to the Deity. They were all devotional songs in the 
 Latin language : they sat like jewels in the golden ring of a polished 
 intellectual conversation ; and without pretending to edify, they ele- 
 vated me and made me happy in the most spiritual manner. 
 
 At our departure, he presented all of us with handsome gifts. To 
 me he gave the cross of my order, more beautifully and artfully 
 worked and enameled than I had ever seen it before. It was hung 
 upon a large brilliant, by which also it was fastened to the chain : 
 this he gave me, he said, "as the noblest stone in the cabinet of a 
 collector." 
 
 My sister with her husband went to their estates ; the rest of us to 
 our abodes ; appearing to ourselves, so far as outward circumstances 
 were concerned, to have returned to quite an e very-day existence. We 
 had been, as it were, dropped from a palace" of the fairies down upon 
 the common earth ; and were again obliged to help ourselves as we 
 best could. 
 
 The singular experiences, which this new circle had afforded, left a 
 fine impression upon my mind. This, however, did not long continue
 
 BOOK VI. 303 
 
 in its first vivacity ; though my uncle tried to nourish and renew it, 
 by sending me certain of his best and most pleasing works of art ; 
 changing them from time to time, with others which I had not seen. 
 
 I had been so much accustomed to be busied with myself, in regu- 
 lating the concerns of my heart and temper, and conversing on these 
 matters with persons of a like mind, that I could not long study any 
 work of art attentively without being turned by it back upon myself. 
 I was used to look at a picture or copperplate merely as at the letters 
 of a book. Fine printing pleases well : but who would read a book 
 for the beauty of the printing? In like manner I required of each 
 pictorial form that it .should tell me something, should instruct, 
 affect, improve me : and after all my uncle's letters to expound his 
 works of art, say what he would, I continued in my former humor. 
 
 Yet not only my peculiar disposition, but external incidents and 
 changes in our family still farther drew me back from contemplations 
 of that nature, nay, for some time even from myself. I had to suffer 
 and to do, more than my slender strength seemed fit for. 
 
 My maiden sister had till now been as a right arm to me. Healthy, 
 strong, unspeakably good-natured, she had managed all the h6use- 
 keeping, I myself being busied with the personal nursing of our aged 
 father. She was seized with a catarrh, which changed to a disorder 
 of the lungs ; in three weeks she was lying in her coffin. Her death 
 inflicted wounds on me, the scars of which I am not yet willing to 
 examine. 
 
 I was lying sick before they buried her: the old ailment in my 
 breast appeared to be awakening ; I coughed with violence, and was 
 so hoarse I could not speak beyond a whisper. 
 
 My married sister, out of fright and grief, was brought to bed be- 
 fore her time. Our old father thought he was about to lose at once 
 his children and the hope of their posterity : his natural tears in- 
 creased my sorrow ; I prayed to God that he would give me back a 
 sufferable state of health. I asked him but to spare my life till my 
 father should die. I recovered ; I was what I reckoned well ; being 
 able to discharge my duties, though with pain. 
 
 Mj' sister was again with child. Many cares, which in such cases 
 are committed to the mother, in the present instance fell to me. She 
 was not altogether happy with her husband ; this was to be hidden 
 from our father : I was often made judge of their disputes ; in which 
 I could decide with the greatest safety, as my brother trusted in me, 
 and the two were really worthy persons, only each of them, instead 
 of humoring, endeavored to convince the other ; and out of eagerne.ss 
 to live in constant harmony, never could agree. I now learned to 
 mingle seriously in worldly matters, and to practice what of old I had 
 but sung. 
 
 My sister bore a son : the frailty of my father did not hinder him from 
 traveling to her. The sight of the child exceedingly enlivened and 
 cheered him; at the christening, contrary to his custom, he seemed
 
 304 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 as if inspired ; nay, I miglit say, like a genius Avitli two faces. With 
 the one, he looked joyfully forward to those regions which he soon 
 hoped to enter ; with the other, to the new, hopeful, earthly life 
 which had arisen in the boy descended from him. On our journey 
 home, he never wearied talking to me of the child, its form, its health, 
 and his wish that the gifts of this new denizen of earth might be 
 rightly cultivated. His reflections on the subject lasted when we had 
 arrived at home : it was not till some days afterwards, that I observed 
 a kind of fever in him ; which displayed itself, without shivering, in 
 a sort of languid heat commencing after dinner. He did not yield, 
 however ; he went out as usual in the mornings, faithfully attending 
 to the duties of his office, till at last continuous serious symptoms 
 kept him within doors. 
 
 I never shall forget with what distinctness, clearness and repose of 
 mind, he settled in the greatest order the concerns of his house, nay, 
 th-e arrangements of his funeral, as he would have done a business 
 of some other person. 
 
 ^Vith a cheerfulness, which he never used to show, and which now 
 mounted to a li^■e]y joy, he said to me : " Where is the fear of death 
 which 1 once felt? Shall I shrink at departing? I have a gracious 
 (rod ; the grave awakens no terror in me ; I have an eternal life." 
 
 To recall the circumstances of his death, which shortly followed, 
 forms one of the most pleasing entertainments of my solitude : ihe 
 visible workings of a higher power in that solemn time, no one shall 
 ever argue from me. 
 
 The death of my beloved father altogether changed my mode of 
 life. From the strictest obedience, the -narrowest confinement, I 
 passed at once into the greatest freedom ; I enjoyed it like a sort of 
 food from which one has long abstained. Formerly I very seldom 
 spent two hours from home ; now I very seldom lived a day there. 
 My friends, whom I had been allowed to visit only by hurried 
 snatches, wished now to have my companj' without interruption, as 
 I did to have theirs. I was often asked to dinner ; at walks and 
 pleasure jaunts I never failed. But when once the circle had been 
 fairly run, I saw that the invaluable happiness of liberty consisted, 
 not in doing what one pleases and what circumstances nuiy invite to, 
 but in being able, without hindrance or restraint, to do in the direct 
 way what one regards as right and proper ; and, in this instance, I 
 was old enough to reach a valuable trutli, without smarting for my 
 ignorance. 
 
 One j)leasure T could not deny myself : it was, as soon as might be, 
 to renew and strengthen my connection with the Herrnhut brethren. 
 I hastened, accoi'dingly, to visit one of their- establishments at no 
 great distance ; but here I by no means found what 1 had been an- 
 ticipating. I was frank enough to signify my disappointment, which 
 they tried to soften by alleging that the present settlement was 
 nothing to a full and fitly organized community. This I did not
 
 BOOK VI. 305 
 
 take upon me to deny ; yet in my thought, the genuine spirit of tho 
 matter might have displayed itself in a small body as well as in a 
 great one. 
 
 One of their bishops wlio was present, a personal disciple of the 
 count, took considerable pains ■with me. He spoke English per 
 fectly, and as I too understood a little of it, he reckoned this a token 
 that we both belonged to one class. I, however, reckoned nothing 
 of the kind ; his conversation did not in the least satisfy me. He 
 had been a cutler ; was a native of Moravia : his mode of thought 
 
 still savored of the artisan. With Herr von L , who had been a 
 
 major in the French service, I got upon a better footing : yet I could 
 never bring myself to the submissiveness he showed to his supe- 
 riors ; nay I felt as if you had given me a box on the ear, when I 
 saw the major's wife, and other women more or less like ladies, take 
 the bishop's hand and kiss it. Meanwhile, a journey into Holland 
 was proposed ; which, however, doubtless for my good, did not take 
 place. 
 
 About this time, my sister was delivered of a daughter ; and now 
 it was the turn of us women to exult, and consider how the little 
 creature should be bred like one of us. The husband, on the other 
 hand, was not so satisfied, when in the following year another 
 daughter saw the light ; with his large estates, he wanted to have 
 boys about him, Avho in future might assist him in his manage- 
 ment. 
 
 My health was feeble : I kept myself in peace, and, by a quiet 
 mode of life, in tolerable equilibrium. I was not afraid of death ; 
 nay, I wished to die ; yet I secretly perceived that God was granting 
 time for me to prove my soul, and to advance still nearer to himself. 
 In my many sleepless nights, especially, I have at times felt some- 
 thing which I cannot undertake to describe. 
 
 It was as if my soul were thinking separately from the body ; she 
 looked upon the body as a foreign substance, as -we look upon a 
 garment She pictured with extreme vivacity events and times long 
 past, and felt by means of this, events that were to follow. Those 
 times are all gone by ; what follows likewise will go by ; the body- 
 too will fall to pieces like a vesture ; but I, the well-known I, I 
 am. 
 
 Tlie thought is great, exalted and consoling ; yet an excellent 
 friend, with whom I every day became more intimate, instructed me 
 to dwell on it as little as I could. Tliis was the physician whom I 
 met in my uncle's house, and who had since accurately informed 
 himself about the temper of my body and my spirit. He showed me 
 how much these feelings, when we cherish them within us inde- 
 pendently of outward objects, tend as it were to excavate us, and to 
 undermine the whole foundntion of our being. " To be active," he 
 would say, " is the primary vocation of man ; all the intervals in 
 which he is obliged to rest, he sliould employ in gaining clearer
 
 306 MEISTEB'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 knowledge of external things, for tliis will in its turn facilitate ac- 
 tivity." 
 
 This friend was acquainted with my custom of looking on my body 
 as an outward object ; he knew also that I pretty well understood my 
 constitution, my disorder, and the medicines of use for it ; nay, that 
 by continual sufferings of my own or other people's, I had really 
 grown a kind of half doctor ; he now carried forward my attention 
 from the human body, and the drugs which act upon it, to the kin- 
 dred objects of creation ; he led me up and down as in the paradise 
 of the first man ; only, if I may continue my comparison, allowing 
 me to trace, in dim remoteness, the Creator walking in the garden in 
 the cool of the evening. 
 
 How gladly did I now see God in nature, when I bore him with 
 such certainty within my heart ! How interesting to me was his 
 handiwork; how thankful did I feel that he had pleased to quicken 
 me with the breath of his mouth ! 
 
 We again had hopes that my sister would present us with a boy ; 
 her husband waited anxiously for that event, but did not live to see 
 it. He died in consequence of an unlucky fall from horseback ; and 
 my sister followed him, soon after she had brought into the world a 
 lovely boy. The four orphans they had left I could not look at but 
 with sadness. So many healthy people had been called away before 
 poor sickly me ; might I not also have blights to witness among these 
 fair and hopeful blossoms '? I knew the world sufficiently to under- 
 stand what dangers threaten the precarious breeding of a child, espe- 
 cially a child of quality ; and it seemed as if, since the period of my 
 youth, these dangers had increased. I felt that, weakly as I was, I 
 could not be much, perhaps of any service to the little ones ; and I 
 rejoiced the more on finding that my uncle, as indeed might have 
 been looked for, had determined to devote his whole attention to the 
 education of these amiable creatures. And this they doubtless mer- 
 ited in every sense ; they were handsome, and with great diversities, 
 all promised to be well- conditioned, reasonable persons. 
 
 Since my worthy doctor had suggested it, I loved to trace out family 
 likenesses among our relatives and children. My father had care- 
 fully preserved the portraits of his ancestors, and got his own and 
 those of his descendants drawn by tolerable masters ; nor had my 
 mother and her people been forgotten. We accurately knew the 
 characters of all the family ; and as we had frequently compared 
 them with each other, we now endeavored to discover in the children 
 the same peculiarities outward and inward. My sister's elder son, 
 "we thought, resembled his paternal grandfather, of whom there was 
 a fine youthful picture in my uncle's collection ; he had been a brave 
 soldier ; and in this point too the boy took after him, liking arms 
 above all things, and busying himself with them whenever he paid 
 me a visit. For my father had left a very pretty armory ; and the 
 boy got no re.st till I had given him a pair of pistols and a fowling-
 
 BOOK VL 307 
 
 piece, and he had learned the prcrper way of using them. At tlie 
 same time, in his conduct or bearing there was nothing like rude- 
 ness ; far from that, lie was always meek and sensible. 
 
 The elder daughter had attracted my especial love ; of which per- 
 haps the reason was that she resembled me, and of all the four seemed 
 to like me best. But I may well admit that the more closely I ob- 
 served her as she grew, the more she shamed me ; I could not look 
 on her without a sentiment of admiration, nay, I may almost say, of 
 reverence. You would scarcely have seen a nobler form, a more 
 peaceful spirit, an activity so equable and universal. No moment of 
 her life was she unoccupied ; and every occupation in her hands be- 
 came dignified. All seejned indifferent to her, so that she could but 
 accomplisli what was proper in the place and time ; and in the same 
 manner, she could patiently continue unemployed when there was 
 nothing to be done. This activity without need of occupation, I have 
 never elsewhere met with. In particular, her conduct to the suffer- 
 ing and destitute was, from her earliest youth, inimitable. For my 
 part, I freely confess I never had the gift to make a business of be- 
 neficence ; I was not niggardly to the poor ; nay, I often gave too 
 largely for my means ; yet this was little more tlian buying myself 
 off ; and a person needed to be made for me, if I was to bestow atten- 
 tion on liim. Directly the reverse was the conduct of my niece. I 
 never saw her give a poor man money ; whatever she obtained from 
 me for this purpose, she failed not in the first place to change for 
 some necessary article. Never did she seem more lovely in my eyes 
 than when rummaging my clothes-presses ; she was always sure to 
 light on something which I did not wear and did not need ; to sew 
 these old cast articles together, and put them on some ragged cliild, 
 she thought her highest happiness. 
 
 Her sister's turn of mind appeared already different : she had miicli 
 of her mother ; she promised to become very elegant and beautiful, 
 and she now bids fair to keep her promise. She is greatly taken up 
 with her exterior ; from her earliest years she could decorate and 
 carry herself in a way that struck you. I still remember with what 
 ecstasy, when quite a little creature, she saw lierself in a mirror, 
 decked in certain precious pearls, once my mother's, which she had 
 by chance discovered, and made me try upon her. 
 
 Reflecting on these diverse inclinations, it was pleasant for me to 
 consider how my property would, after my decease, be shared among 
 them, and again called into use. I saw the fowling-pieces of my 
 father once more traveling round the fields on my nephew's shoulder, 
 and birds once more falling from his hunting-pouch : I saw my whole 
 wardrobe issuing from the church, at Easter confirmation, on the 
 persons of tidy little girls ; while the best pieces of it were employed 
 to decorate some virtuous burgher maiden on her marriage day. In 
 furnishing such children and poor little girls, Natalia had a singular 
 delight : though, as I must here remark, she showed not the smallest
 
 308 MEISTEB'S APPRENTIGESSlP. 
 
 love, or if I may say it, smallest need, or a dependence upon any visi- 
 ble or invisible being, such as I had in my youth so strongly mani- 
 fested. 
 
 When I also thought that the younger sister, on that same day, 
 would wear my jewels and pearls at court, I could see with peace my 
 possessions, like my body, given back to the elements. 
 
 The children waxed apace ; to my comfort, they are healthy, hand- 
 some, clever creatures. That my uncle keeps them from me, I 
 endure without repining : when staying in the neighborhood, or even 
 in town, they seldom see me. 
 
 A singular personage, regarded as a French clergyman, though no 
 one rightly knows his history, has been intrusted with the oversight 
 of all these children. He has them taught in various places ; they 
 are put to board now here, now there. 
 
 At first I could perceive no plan whatever in this mode of education ; 
 till at last our doctor told me the abbe had convinced my uncle, that 
 in order to accomplish anything by education, we must first become 
 acquainted with the pupil's tendencies and wishes ; that these once 
 ascertained, he ought to be transported to a situation where he may, 
 as speedily as possible, content the former and attain the latter ; and 
 so if he have been mistaken, may still in time perceive his error ; and 
 at last having found what suits him, may hold the faster by it, may 
 the more diligently fashion himself according to it. I wish this 
 strange experiment may prosper : with such excellent natures it is 
 perhaps possible. 
 
 But there is one peculiarity in these instructors, which I never shall 
 approve of : they study to seclude the children from whatever might 
 awaken them to an acquaintance with themselves and with the invisi- 
 ble, sole, faithful Friend. I often take it ill of my uncle that, on this 
 account, he considers me dangerous for the little ones. Thus in 
 practice there is no man tolerant ! Many assure us that they willingly 
 leave each to take his own way ; yet all endeavor to exclude from 
 action every one that does not think as they do. 
 
 This removal of the children troubles me the more, the more I am 
 convinced of the reality of my belief. How can it fail to have a 
 heavenly origin, an actual object, when in practice it is so effectual ? 
 Is it not by practice alone that we prove our own existence? Why 
 then may we not, by a like mode, prove to ourselves the influence of 
 that Power who gives us all good things '? 
 
 That 1 am still advancing, never retrograding ; that my conduct is 
 approximating more and more to the image I have formed of perfec- 
 tion ; that I every day feel more facility in doing what I reckon proper, 
 even while the weakness of my body so obstructs me ; can all this 
 be accounted for upon the principles of human nature, whose corrup- 
 tion I have so clearly seen into'? For me, at least, it cannot. 
 
 I scarcely remember a commandment ; to me there is nothing that 
 assumes the aspect of law ; it is an impluse that leads me, and guides
 
 BOOK VI. m 
 
 me always aright. I freely follow my emotions, and know as little 
 of constraint as of repentance. God be praised that I know to whoTn 
 I am indebted for such happiness, and that I cannot think of it with- 
 out liumility ! There is no danger I should ever bt^come proud of 
 ivhat I myself can do or can forbear to do ; I have seen too well what 
 a monster might be formed and nursed in every human bosom, did 
 not higher influence restrain us.
 
 310 MEISTER'S APPRENTiCESSlP. 
 
 BOOK VII 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The spring had commenced in all its brilFiancy ; a storm, that had 
 been lowering all day, went fiercely down upon the hills; the rain 
 drew back into the country ; the sun came forth in all its splendor, 
 and upon the dark vapor rose the lordly rainbow. Wilhelm was 
 riding towards it : the sight made him sad. " Ah ! " said he within 
 himself, " do the fairest hues of life appear, then, only on a ground 
 of black? And must drops fall, if we are to be charmed? A bright 
 day is like a dim one, if we look at it unnK^ved ; and what can move 
 us but some silent hope that the inborn inclination of our soul shall 
 not always be without an object ? The recital of a noble action moves 
 us ; the sight of everything harmonious moves us ; we feel then as if 
 we were not altogether in a foreign land ; we fancy we are nearer the 
 home, towards which our best and inmost wishes impatiently strive." 
 • Meanwhile a pedestrian overtook him, and walking with a stout 
 step by the side of the horse, began to keep him company. After a 
 few common words, he looked at the rider and said : "If I am not 
 mistaken, I must have already seen you somewhere." 
 
 " I too remember you," said Wilhelm ; " had we not some time ago 
 a pleasant sail together? " " Right ! " replied the other. 
 
 Wilhelm looked at him more narrowly ; then, after a pause, ob- 
 served : " I do not know what alteration has occurred in you; last 
 time we met, I took you for a Lutheran clergyman, you now seem 
 rather like a Catholic one." 
 
 " To-day, at least, you are not wrong," replied the other, taking off 
 his hat and showing him the tonsure. "Where is your company 
 gone ? Did you stay long Avith them ? " 
 
 ' ' Longer than was good : on looking back upon the period which I 
 passed in their society, it seems as if I looked into an endless void ; 
 nothing of it has remained with me." 
 
 "Here you are mistaken," said the stranger; "everything that 
 happens to us leaves some trace behind it, everything contributes im- 
 perceptibly to form us. Yet often it is dangerous to take a strict 
 account of that. For either we grow proud and negligent, or down- 
 cast and dispirited ; and both are equally injurious in their conse- 
 quences. The safe plan is, always simply to do the task that lies 
 nearest us ; and this in the present case," added he with a smile, "is 
 to hasten to our quarters. "
 
 BOOK VIL CHAPTER I. 311 
 
 Wilhelm asked how far Lotliario's house was distant ; the stranger 
 answered that it hiy hehind the hill. " Perha])s I shall meet you 
 there," continued he ; "I have merely a small affair to manage in the 
 neighborhood. Farewell till tlien ! " And with this, he struck into 
 a steep path, that seemed to lead more speedily across the hill. 
 
 " Yes, the man is right ! " said Wilhelm to himself as he proceeded ; 
 " we should think of what is nearest: and for me at present there 
 is nothing nearer than the mournful errand I have come to do. I^et 
 me see whether I can still repeat the speech, which is to put the cruel 
 man to shame." 
 
 He then began reciting to himself this piece of oratory ; not a syl- 
 lable was wanting ; and the more his recollection served him, the 
 higher grew his passion and his courage. Aurelia's sorrows and her 
 death were vividly present to his soul. 
 
 " Spirit of my friend ! " exclaimed he, "hover round me ; and if 
 thou canst, give some sign to me that thou art softened, art ap- 
 peased ! " 
 
 Amid such words and meditations, he had reached the summit of 
 the hill : and near the foot of its declivity, he now beheld a curious 
 building, which he at once took to be Lothario's dwelling. An old 
 irregular castle, with several turrets and peaked roofs, appeared to 
 have been the primitive erection ; but the new additions to it, placed 
 near the main structure, looked still more irregular. A part of them 
 stood close upon the main edifice ; others, at some distance, were com- 
 bined with it by galleries and covered passages. All external sym- 
 metry, every shade of architectural beauty, appeared to have been 
 sacrificed to the convenience of the interior. No trace of wall or 
 trench was to be seen ; none of avenues or artificial gardens. A fruit 
 and potherb garden readied to the very buildings ; and little patches 
 of a like sort showed themselves even in the intermediate spaces. A 
 cheerful village lay at no great distance ; the fields and gardens 
 everywhere appeared in the highest state of cultivation. 
 
 Sunk in his own impassioned feelings, Wilhelm rode along, not 
 thinking much of what he saw ; he put up his horse at an inn ; and 
 not without emotion, hastened to the castle. 
 
 An old serving-man received him at the door ; and signified, with 
 much good nature, that to-day it would be difficult to get admission to 
 his lordship ; who was occupied in writing letters, and had already 
 refused some people that had business with him. Our friend became 
 more importunate ; the old man was at last obliged to yield, and an- 
 nounce him. He returned, and conducted Wilhelm to a spacious 
 ancient hall ; desiring liini to be so good as wait, since perhaps it 
 might be some time before his lordship could appear. Our friend 
 walked up and down unrestf uUy ; casting now and then a look at the 
 knights and dames, whose ancient figures hung round him on the 
 walls. He repeated the beginning of his speech : it seemed, in pres- 
 ence of these ruffs and coats of mail, to answer even better, Every
 
 813 MEI8TER' IS APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 time there rose any stir, lie put liimself in posture to receive his man 
 with dignity ; meaning first to hand him the letter, then assail him 
 with the weapons of reproach. 
 
 More than once mistaken, he was now beginning to be really vexed 
 and out of tune, when at last a handsome man, in boots and light 
 surtout, stepped in from a side door. " What good news have you 
 •forme?" said he to Wilhelm, with a friendly voice; "pardon me, 
 that I have made you wait." 
 
 So speaking, he kept folding a letter, which he held in his hand. 
 Wilhelm, not without embarrassment, delivered him Aurelia's paper, 
 and replied : "I bring you the last words of a friend, which you will 
 not read without emotion." 
 
 Lothario took it, and returned to his chamber with it ; where, as 
 Wilhelm through the open door could very easily observe, he addressed 
 and sealed some letters, before opening Aurelia's. He appeared to 
 have perused it once or twice j and Wilhelm, though his feelings 
 signified that the pathetic speech would sort but ill with such a cool 
 reception, girded up his mind, went forward to the threshold, and 
 was just about beginning his address, Avhen a tapestry door of the 
 cabinet opened, and the clergyman came in. 
 
 " I have got the strangest message you can think of, "cried Lothario 
 to him. "Pardon me," continued he, addressing Wilhelm, "if I am 
 not in a mood for speaking farther with you at this moment. You 
 remain with us to-night : you, abb6,seethe stranger properly attended 
 to." 
 
 With these words, he made his guest a bow : the clergyman took 
 Wilhelm by the hand, who followed, not without reluctance. 
 
 They Avalked along some curious passages, in silence, and at last 
 reached a very pretty chamber. The abb6 led him in ; then left 
 him, making no excuses. Ere long, an active boy appeared ; he 
 introduced himself as Wilhelm's valet ; and brought up his supper. 
 In waiting, he had much to say about the order of the house, about 
 their breakfasting and dining, labors and amusements ; interspersing 
 many things in commendation of Lothario. 
 
 Pleasant as the boy was, W'ilhelm endeavored to get rid of him as 
 soon as possible. He wished to be alone ; for he felt exceedingly 
 oppressed and straitened, in his new position. He reproached himself 
 with having executed his intentions so ill, with having done his 
 errand only half. One moment, he proposed to overtake next iiiorn- 
 ing what he had neglected to-night ; the next, he saw that by 
 Lothario's presence he would be attuned to quite a different set of 
 feelings. Tlie house, too, where he was, seemed very strange to 
 him ; he could not be at home in his position. Intending to undress, 
 he opened his traveling-bag : with his night-clothes, he took out the 
 spirit's veil, which Mignon had packed in along with them. The 
 sight of it increased the sadness of his humor. " Fly ! youth, fly!" 
 cried he. " What means this mystic word? What am I to fly, or
 
 BOOK ril CRAPTER L 313 
 
 whither ? It were better had the spirit called to me : return to thy- 
 self ! " He cast his eyes on some English copperplates, hung round 
 the room in frames ; most of them he looked at with indifference : at 
 last he met with one, in which a ship was represented sinking in a 
 tempest ; a father with his lovely daughters was awaiting death from 
 the intrusive billows. One of the maidens had a kind of likeness to 
 the Amazon : an indescribable compassion seized our friend ; he felfc 
 an irresistible necessity to vent his feelings ; tears filled his eyes, he 
 wept, and did not recover his composure, till slumber cfverpowered 
 him. 
 
 Strange dreams arose upon him towards morning. He was in a 
 garden, which in boyhood he had often visited ; he looked with 
 pleasure at the well-known alleys, hedges, flower beds : Mariana met 
 him, he spoke to her with love and tenderness, recollecting nothing 
 of any bygone grievance. Ere long his father joined them, in his 
 week-day dress ; with a look of frankness that was rare in him, he 
 bade his son fetch tv/o seats from the garden-house ; then took 
 Mariana by the hand, and led her into a grove. 
 
 Wilhelm hastened to the garden-house, but found it altogether 
 empty ; only at a window in the farther side he saw Aurelia stand- 
 ing. He went forward and addressed her, but she turned not round ; 
 and though he placed himself beside her, he could never see her face. 
 He looked out from the window ; in an unknown garden, there were 
 several people, some of whom he recognized. Frau Melina, seated 
 under a tree was placing with a rose, which she had in her hand ; 
 Laertes stood beside her, counting money from the one hand to the 
 other. Mignon and Felix were lying on the grass ; the former on her 
 back, the latter on his face. Philina came and clapped her hands 
 above the children ; Mignon lay unmoved ; Felix started up and fled. 
 At first he laughed while running, as Philina followed ; but he 
 screamed in terror, when he saw the harper coming after him 
 with large, slow steps. Felix ran directly to a pond ; Wilhelm 
 hastened after him : too late ; the child was lying in the water ! 
 Wilhelm stood as if rooted to the spot. The fair Amazon appeared 
 on the other side of the pond ; she stretched her right hand towards 
 the child, and walked along the shore. The child came through the 
 water, by the course her finger pointed to ; he followed her as she 
 went round ; at last she reached her hand to him, and pulled him 
 out. Wilhelm had come nearer ; the child was all in flames ; fiery 
 drops were falling from his body. Wilhelm's agony was greater 
 than ever ; but instantly the Amazon took a Avhite veil from her 
 head, and covered up the child with it. The fire was at once 
 quenched. But when she lifted up the veil, two boys sprang out 
 from under it, and frolicsomely sported to and fro ; while Wilhelm 
 and the Amazon proceeded hand in hand across the garden ; and 
 noticed in the distance JIariana and his father walking in an alley, 
 which was formed of lofty trees, and seemed to go quite round the
 
 314 MEI8TER 'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 garden. He turned his steps to tliein, and with his beautiful 
 attendant was moving through the garden, when suddenly the fair- 
 haired Friedrich came across their path, and kept them back witli 
 loud laughter and a thousand tricks. Still, however, they insisted 
 on proceeding ; and Friedrich hastened off, running towards Mariana 
 and the father. These seemed to fly before liini ; he pursued the 
 faster ; till Wilhelm saw them hovering down the alley almost as on 
 wings. Nature and inclination called on liim to go, and help them ; 
 but the lia'nd of the Amazon detained him. How gladly did he let 
 himself be held I W"\i\\ this mingled feeling he awoke ; and found 
 his chamber shining with the morning beams. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OiTR friend was called to breakfast by the boy : he found the abb6 
 waiting in the hall ; Lothario, it appeared, had ridden out. The 
 abb6 was not very talkative, but rather wore a thoughtful look ; he 
 inquired alx)ut Aurelia's death, and listened to our friend's recital of 
 it, with apparent sympathy. " Ah ! " cried he, " the man that dis- 
 cerns, with lively clearness, wliat infinite operations art and nature 
 must have joined in, before a cultivated human being can be formed ; 
 the man that himself as much as possible takes interest in the culture 
 of his fellow-men, is ready to despair when he sees how lightly mor- 
 tals will destroy themselves, will blamelessly or blamably expose 
 themselves to be destroyed. When I think of these things, life itself 
 appears to me so uncertain a gift, that 1 could praise the man who 
 does not value it beyond its worth." 
 
 Scarcely had he spoken, when the door flew violently up ; a young 
 lady came rushing in ; she pushed away the old servant who attempted 
 to restrain her. She made right to the abbe, and seized him by the 
 arm ; her tears and sobs would hardly let her speak tliese words : 
 "Where is he? Where have you put him? "i'is a frightful treach- 
 ery I Confess it now! I know what you are doing; I will after 
 him ; will know where you liave sent him ! " 
 
 " Be calm, my cliild," replied the abbe, with assumed composure ; 
 "come with me to your room ; you shall know it all ; only you must 
 have the strength to listen, if you ask me to relate." He offered her 
 his hand, as if he meant to lead her out. " I will not return to my 
 room,'' cried she : "1 hate the walls where you have kept me pris- 
 oner so long. I know it all already ; the colonel has challenged liim ; 
 he is gone to meet his enemy ; perhaps this very moment he — Once 
 or twice 1 thought I heard the sound of shots ! I tell you, order out a 
 coach, and come along with me, or I will fill the house and all the 
 village with my screaming. "
 
 BOOK VI f. CHAP T Eli 11. 315 
 
 Weeping bitterly, she hastened to the window ; the abb6 held her 
 back, and sought in vain to soothe her. 
 
 Tliey heard a sound of wheels ; she threw up the window, exclaim- 
 ing : " He is dead ! They are bringing home his body. " " He is com- 
 ing out," replied the abb6 ; " you perceive he lives." " He is 
 wounded," said she wildly, " else he would have come on horseback. 
 They are holding him ! The wound is dangerous ! " She ran to the 
 door, and down the stairs : the abb6 hastened after her ; and VVil- 
 lielm following, observed the fair one meet her lover, who had now 
 dismounted. 
 
 Lothario leaned on his attendant, whom Wilhelm at once knew as 
 his ancient patron Jarno. The wounded man spoke very tenderly 
 and kindly to the tearful damsel ; he rested on her shoulder, and 
 came slowly up the steps ; saluted Wilhelm as he passed, and was 
 conducted to his cabinet. 
 
 Jarno soon returned, and going up to Wilhelm, " It appears," said 
 he, "you are predestined everywhere to find a theater and actors. 
 We have here commenced a play which is not altogether pleasant." 
 
 "I rejoiced to find you," answered ^^'ilhelm, "in so strange an 
 hour : I am astonished, frightened ; and your presence already quiets 
 my mind Tell me, is there danger? Is the baron badly wounded?" 
 " I imagine not," said Jarno. 
 
 It was not long till the young surgeon entered from the cabinet. 
 " Now what say you? " cried Jarno to him. " That it is a dangerous 
 piece of work," replied the other, putting several instruments into 
 his leathern pouch. Wilhelm looked at the band, which was hang- 
 ing from the pouch ; he fancied he knew it. Bright contrary colors, 
 a curious pattern, gold and silver wrought in singular figures, marked 
 this band from all the bands in the world. \Mllielm was convinced 
 he beheld the very pouch of the ancient surgeon who had dressed his 
 wounds in the green of the forest ; and the hope, so long deferred, 
 of again finding traces of the lovely Amazon, struck like a flame 
 through all his soul. 
 
 " Where did you get that pouch?" cried he. " To whom did it be- 
 long before you? I beg of you, tell me." "I bought it at an auc- 
 tion," said the other : " what is it to me whom it belonged to?" So 
 speaking, he went out ; and Jarno said : " If there would come but 
 one word of truth from our young doctor's mouth ! " " Then he did 
 not buy the pouch?" said Wilhelm. "Just as little as Lothario is 
 in danger," said the other. 
 
 Wilhelm stood immersed in many reflections ; Jarno asked how he 
 had fared of late. Wilhelm sketched an outline of his history ; and 
 when he at last came to speak of Aurelia's death, and his message 
 to the place, his auditor exclaimed : " Well ! it is strange, most 
 strange ! " 
 
 The abb6 entered from Lothario's chamber ; beckoned Jarno to go 
 in instead of him ; and said to Wilhelm : " The Baron bids me ask
 
 316 MEISTEK'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 you to remain witli us a day or two, to share his hospitality, and, in 
 the present circumstances, contribute to his solacement. If you need 
 to give any notice to your people, your letter shall be instantly dis- 
 patched. Meanwhile, to make you understand this curious incident, 
 of which you have been witness, I must tell you something, which 
 indeed is no secret. The baron had a small adventure with a lady, 
 which excited more than usual attention ; the lady having taken him 
 from a rival, and wishing to enjoy her victory too ostentatiously. 
 After a time, he no longer found the same delight in her society ; 
 which he of course forsook ; but being of a violent temper, she 
 could not bear her fate with patience. Meeting at a ball, they had 
 an open quarrel : she thought herself irreparably injured ; and 
 would be revenged. No knight stepped forth to do battle for her ; till 
 her husband, whom for years she had not lived with, heard of the . 
 affair and took it up. He challenged the baron, and to-day he has 
 wounded him ; yet, as I hear, the gallant colonel has himself come 
 still worse off." 
 
 From this hour, our friend was treated in the house as if he had 
 belonged to it. 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 At times they had read a little to the patient ; Wilhelm joyfully 
 performed this service. Lydia stirred not from Lothario's bed ; her 
 care for him absorbed her whole attention. But to-day the patient 
 himself seemed occupied with thought : he bade them lay aside their 
 book. "To-day," said he, " I feel through my whole heart how 
 foolishly we let our time pass on. How many things have I pro- 
 posed to do, how many have I planned ; yet how we loiter in our 
 noblest purposes ! I have just read over the scheme of the changes 
 which I mean to make in my estates : and it is chiefly, I may say, 
 on their account that I rejoice at the bullet's not having gone a 
 deadlier road." 
 
 Lydia looked at him with tenderness, with tears in her eyes ; as if 
 to ask if slic, if his friends could not pretend to any interest in his 
 wish to live. Jarno answered : " Changes, such as you project, re- 
 quire to be considered well on every side, before tliey are resolved on," 
 
 " Long considerations," said Lothario, " are commonly a proof 
 that we have not the point to be determined clearly in our eye ; 
 precipitate proceedings that we do not know it. I see distinctly that 
 in managing my property, there are several particulars, in which the 
 services of my dependants cannot be remitted ; certain rights which 
 I must rigidly insist on ; but I also see that there are other articles, 
 advantageous to me, but by no means indispensable, which might 
 fidrait of relaxation. Do I not profit by my lands far better than my
 
 BOOK VII. CHAPTER III. 317 
 
 father did? Is not my income still increasing? And shall I alone 
 enjoy this growing benefit ? Shall not those who labor with and for 
 me partake, in their degree, of the advantages which expanding 
 knowledge, which a period of improvement are procuring for us ? " 
 
 "'Tis human nature? " cried Jarno : " I do not blame myself when 
 I detect this selfish quality among the rest. Every man desires to 
 gather all things round him, to shape and manage them according 
 to his own pleasure : the money which he himself does not expend, 
 he seldom reckons well expended." 
 
 "Certainly," observed Lothario, mucli of the capital might be 
 abated, if we consumed the interest less capriciously." 
 
 " The only tiling I sliall mention," said the other, "the only reason 
 I can urge against your now proceeding with those alterations, 
 which, for a time at least, must cause you loss, is, that you yourself 
 are still in debt, and that the payment presses hard on you. My ad- 
 vice is, therefore, to postpone your plan till you are altogether free." 
 " And in the meanwhile leave it at the mercy of a bullet, or the 
 fall of a tile, to annihilate the whole result of my existence and ac- 
 tivity ! O my friend ! it is ever thus ; it is ever the besetting fault 
 of cultivated men, that they wish to spend their whole resources on 
 some idea, scarcely any part of them on tangible existing objects. 
 Why was it that I contracted debts, that I quarreled with my uncle, 
 that I left my sisters to themselves so long ? Purely for the sake of 
 an idea. In America, I fancied I might accomplish something ; over 
 seas, I hoped to become useful and essential : if any task Avas not 
 begirt with a thousand dangers, I considered it trivial, unworthy of 
 me. How differently do matters now appear ! How precious, how im- 
 portant seems the duty which is nearest me, whatever it may be !" 
 
 " I recollect the letter which you sent me from the Western world," 
 said Jarno : " it contained the words : ' I will return, and in my house, 
 amid my fields, among my people, I will say : Here or nowliere is 
 America / " 
 
 " Yes, my friend ! and I am still repeating it, and still repining at 
 myself that I am not so busy here as I was there. For certain equable, 
 continuous modes of life, there is nothing more than judgment 
 necessa.ry, and we study to attain nothing more ; so we become unable 
 to discern what extraordinary services each vulgar day requires of 
 us ; or if we do discern them, we find abundance of excuses for not doing 
 them. A judicious man is valuable to himself ; but of little value 
 for the general whole." 
 
 " We will not," said Jarno, "bear too hard upon judgment: let 
 us grant that whenever extraordinary things are done, they are gen- 
 erally foolish." 
 
 " Yes ! and just because they are not done according to the proper 
 plan. My brother-in-law, you see, is giving up his fortune, so far as 
 in his power, to the community of Herrnhut ; he reckons that by do- 
 ing so, he is advancing the salvation of his soul. Had he sacrificed
 
 318 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 a small portion of his revenue, lie might have rendered many people 
 happy, might have made for them and for himself a heaven upon 
 earth. Our sacrifices are rarely of an active kind ; we, as it were, 
 abandon what we give away. It is not from resolution iDut despair, 
 that we renounce our property. In these days, I confess it, the image 
 of the count is hovering constantly before me ; I have firmly resolved 
 on doing from conviction, what a crazy fear is forcing upon him. I 
 will not wait fo^ being cured. Here are the papers ; they require 
 only to be properly drawn out. Take the lawyer with you ; our guest 
 will help : what I want, you know as well as I ; recovering or dying 
 I will stand by it, and say : Here or nowhere is Herrnhut ! " 
 
 When he mentioned dying, Lydia sank before his bed ; she hung 
 upon his arm, and wept bitterly. The surgeon entered ; Jarno gave 
 our friend the papers, and made Lydia leave the room. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake ! what is this about the count? " cried Wil- 
 lielm, when they reached the liall and were alone. " What count is 
 it that means to join the Herrnhuters ?" 
 
 " One whom you know very well," said Jarno. " You yourself are 
 the ghost who have frightened the unhappy wiseacre into piety ; you 
 are the villain who liave brought his pretty wife to such a state, that 
 she inclines accompanying him." 
 
 " And she is Lothario's sister? " cried our friend. 
 
 "No other ! " 
 
 "And Lothario knows — ? " 
 
 "The whole." 
 
 " O let me fly I " cried Wilhelm. ' ' How shall I appear before him ? 
 What can he say to me ? " 
 
 • "That no man shall cast a stone at his brother ; that when one 
 composes long speeches, with a view to shame his neighbors, he 
 should speak them to a looking-glass." 
 
 " Do you know that too?" 
 
 " And many things beside," said Jarno with a smile. " But in the 
 present case," continued he, "you shall not get away from me so 
 easily as you did the last time. You need not now be apprehensive 
 of my bounty money ; I have ceased to be a soldier ; when I was one, 
 you might have thought more charitably of me. Since you saw me, 
 many things have altered. My prince, my only friend and benefac- 
 tor, being dead, I have now withdrawn from busy life and its con- 
 cerns. I used to have a pleasure in advancing what was reasonable ; 
 when I met with any despicable thing, I hesitated not to call it so : 
 and men had never done with talking of my restless head and wicked 
 tongue. The herd of people dread sound understanding more than 
 anything ; they ought to dread stupidity, if they had any notion what 
 was really dreadful. Understanding is unpleasant, they must have 
 it pushed aside stupidity, is but pernicious, they can let it stay. 
 Well, be it so ! 1 need to live; I will by and by communicate my 
 plans to you ; if you incline, you shall partake in them. But me telj
 
 BOOK VIL CHAPTER HI 319 
 
 first how things have gone with you. I see, I feel that you are 
 changed. How is it with your ancient maggot of producing some- 
 thing beautiful and good in the society of gipsies? " 
 
 " Do not speak of it ! " cried Wilhelm ; "I have been already pun- 
 ished for it. People talk about the stage ; but none, that has not 
 been upon it personally, can form the smallest notion of it. How 
 utterly these nien are unacquainted with themselves, how thought- 
 lessly they carry on their trade, liow Iwuudless their pretensions are, 
 no mortal can conceive. Each not (jnly would be first, but sole ; each 
 wishes to exclude the rest, and does not see that even with them, he 
 can scarcely accomp]ish anytliing. Each thinks himself a man of 
 marvelous originality ; yet with a ravening appetite for novelty, he 
 cannot walk a footstep from the beaten track. How vehemently they 
 counterwork each other ! It is only the pitifulest self-love, the nar- 
 rowest views of interest that unite them. Of reciprocal accommo- 
 dation they have no idea ; backbiting and hidden spitef uluess maintain 
 a constant jealousy among them. In their lives they are either rakes 
 or simpletons. Each claims the loftiest respect, each writhes under 
 the slightest lilame. ' All tliis he knew already,' he will tell you ! 
 Why then did he not do it? Ever needy, ever unconfiding, they seem 
 as if their greatest fear were reason and good taste, their highest care 
 were to secure the majesty of their self-will." 
 
 Wilhelm drew breath, intending to proceed with his eulogium, 
 when an immoderate laugh from Jarno interrupted him. "Poor 
 actors ! " cried he ; threw himself into a chair, and laughed away. 
 " Poor dear actors ! Do you know, my friend," continued he, recov- 
 ering from his fit, " that you have been describing not the playhouse, 
 but the world ; that out of all ranks I could find you characters and 
 doings in abundance, to suit your cruel pencil? Pardon me, it makes 
 me laugh again, that you should think these amiable qualities existed 
 on the boards alone." 
 
 Wilhelm checked his feelings ; Jarno's extravagant, untimely laugh- 
 ter had, m truth, offended him. "It is scarcely hiding your misan- 
 thropy," said he, " when you maintain that faults like these are 
 universal." 
 
 "And it shows your unacquaintance with the world, when you 
 impute them to the theater in such a heinous light. I pardon in the 
 player every fault that springs from self-deception and the desire to 
 please. If he seem not something to himself and others, he is noth- 
 ing. To seem is his vocation ; he must prize his moment of applause, 
 for he gets no other recompense ; he must try to glitter, he is there 
 to do so. " 
 
 " You will give me leave, at least, to smile in my turn," answered 
 Wilhelm. " I should never have believed that you could be .so 
 merciful, so tolerant." 
 
 " I swear to you I am serious, fully and deliberately serious. All 
 faults of the man I can pardon in the player ; no fault of the player
 
 320 MEISfER'8 APPRmTtCESHlP. 
 
 can I pardon in the man. Do not set me upon clianting my lament 
 about the latter ; it might have a sharper sound than yours." 
 
 The surgeon entered from the cabinet ; and to the question how his 
 patient was, he answered with a lively air of complaisance: "Ex- 
 tremely well, indeed ; I hope soon to see him quite recovered." He 
 hastened through the hall, not waiting Wilhelm's speech, who was 
 preparing to inquire again, with greater importunity, about the 
 case. His anxiety to gain some tidings of his Amazon inspired him 
 with confidence in Jarno ; he disclosed his case to him, and begged his 
 help. " You that know so many things," said, " can you not discover 
 this?" 
 
 Jarno reflected for a moment, then turning to his friend: "Be 
 calm," said he, " give no one any hint of it ; we shall come upon the 
 fair one's footsteps, never fear. At present, I am anxious only for 
 Lothario ; the case is dangerous ; the kindliness and comfortable talk- 
 ing of the doctor tells me so. We should be quit of Lydia ; for here 
 she does no good ; but how to set about the task, I know not. To- 
 night I am looking for our old physician ; we shall then take farther 
 counsel." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The physician came : it was the good, old, little doctor whom we 
 know already, and to whom we were obliged for the communication 
 of the pious manuscript. First of all, he visited the wounded man ; 
 with whose condition he appeared to be by no means satisfied. He had 
 next a long interview with Jarno ; but they made no allusion to the 
 subject of it when tliey came to supper. 
 
 Wilhelm saluted him in the kindest manner, and inquired about the 
 harper. "We have still hopes of bringing round the hapless crea- 
 ture," answered the physician. "He formed a dreary item in your 
 limited and singular way of life," said Jarno. "How has it fared 
 with him? Tell me." 
 
 Having satisfied Jarno's curiosity, the physician thus proceeded : 
 " I have never seen another man so strangely circumstanced. For 
 many years, he has not felt the smallest interest in anything without 
 him, scarcely paid the smallest notice to it : wrapped up in himself, 
 he has looked at nothing but his own hollow empty Me, which 
 seemed to him lilce an immeasurable abyss. It was reallj' touching, 
 when he spoke to us of this mournful state. ".Before me,' cried he, 
 ' I see nothing ; behind me nothing but an endless night, in which I 
 live in the most iiorrid solitude. There is no feeling in me, but the 
 feeling of my guilt : and this appears but like a dim formless spirit, 
 far before me. Yet here there is no height, no depth, no forwards, 
 no backwards ; no words can express this never-changing state.
 
 BOOK VII. CHAPTER IV. 321 
 
 Often in agony of this sameness, I exclaim with violence : Forever ! 
 forever ; and this dark incomprehensible word is clear and plain to 
 the gloom of my condition. No ray of a divinity illuminates this 
 night ; I shed all my tears by myself and for myself. Nothing is 
 more horrible to me than friendship and love ; for they alone excite 
 in me the wish that the apparitions which surround me might be real. 
 But these two specters also have arisen from the abyss to plague me, 
 and at length to tear from me the precious consciousness of my exist- 
 ence, unearthly though it be.' 
 
 " You should hear him speak," continued the physician, " when in 
 hours of confidence he thus alleviates his heart. I have listened to 
 him often with the deepest feelings. When pressed by anything, 
 and as it were compelled for an instant to confess that a space of tune 
 has passed, he looks astounded, then again refers the alteration to the 
 things about him, considering it as an appearance of appearances, and 
 so rejecting the idea of progress in duration. One night he sung a 
 song about his gray hairs : we all sat round him weeping." 
 
 " O get it for me ! " cried Wilhelin. 
 
 " But have you not discovered any trace of what he calls his 
 crime?" inquired Jarno : " nor found out the reason of his wearing 
 such a singular garb ; of his conduct at the burning of the house , of 
 his rage against the child ? " 
 
 " It is only by conjectures that we can approximate to any knowledge 
 of his fate : to question him directly, contradicts our principle. 
 Observing easily that he was of the Catholic religion, we thought 
 perhaps confession might afford him .some assuagement ; but he 
 shrinks away, with the strangest gestures, every time we try to 
 introduce the priest to him. However, not to leave your curiosity 
 respecting him entirely unsatisfied, I may communicate our supposi- 
 tions on the subject. In his youth, we think, he must have been a 
 clergyman : hence probably his wish to keep his beard and long 
 cloak. The joys of love appear to have remained for many years 
 unknown to him. Late in life, as we conceive, some aberration with a 
 lady very nearly related to him ; then her death, tlie consequence 
 of an unlucky creature's birth, have altogether crazed his brain. 
 
 " His chief delusion is a fancy that he brings misfortune every- 
 where along with him ; and that death, to be unwittingly occasioned 
 by a boy, is constantly impending over him. At first he was afraid of 
 Mignon, not knowing that she was a girl ; then Felix frightened him ; 
 and as, with all his misery, he has a boundless love of life, this may 
 perhaps have been the origin of his aversion to the child." 
 
 " What hopes have you of his recovery? " inquired our friend. 
 
 "It advances slowly," answered the physician; "yet it does 
 advance. He continues his appointed occupations : we have now 
 accustomed him to read the newspapers ; he always looks for them 
 with eagerness." 
 
 " I am curious about his songs," said Jarno. 
 Meister — 11
 
 322 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 "Of these I can eugage to get you several," replied the doctor. 
 " Our parson's eldest son, who frequently writes down his father's 
 sermons, has, unnoticed by the harper, marked on paper many 
 stanzas of his singing ; out of which some songs have gradually been 
 pieced together." 
 
 Next morning Jarno met our friend, and said to him : ' ' We have 
 to ask a kindness of you. Lydia must, for some time, be removed : 
 her violent unreasonable love and passionateness hinders the baron's 
 recovery. His wound requires rest and calmness, though with his 
 healthy temperament it is not dangerous. You see how Lydia tor- 
 tures him with her tenipestuous anxieties, her ungovernable terrors, 
 her never-drying tears ; and — enough ! " he added with a smile, after 
 pausing for a moment, " our doctor expressly requires that she must 
 quit us for a while. We have got her to believe that a lady, one of 
 her most intimate friends, is at present in the neighborhood, wishing 
 and expecting instantly to see her. She has been prevailed upon to 
 undertake a journey to our lawyer's, which is but two leagues off. 
 This man is in the secret : he will woefully lament that Fraulein 
 Theresa should just have left him again ; he will seem to think she 
 may still be overtaken. Lydia will hasten after her ; and if you 
 prosper, will be led from place to place. At last, if she insist on 
 turning back, you must not contradict her ; but the night will help 
 you ; the coachman is a cunning knave, and we shall speak with him 
 before he goes. You are to travel with her in the coach, to talk to 
 her, and manage the adventure." ^ 
 
 " It is a strange and dulnous commission that you give me," an- 
 swered Wilhelm. " How painful is tlie sight of true love injured ! 
 And am I to be the instrument of injuring it? I have never cheated 
 any person so : for it has always seemed to me that if we once begin 
 deceiving with a view to good and useful purposes, we run the risk 
 of carrying it to excess." 
 
 " Yet you cannot manage children otherwise," said Jarno. 
 
 "With children it may do," said Wilhelm ; "for we love them 
 tenderly, and take an open charge of them. But with our equals, 
 in behalf of whom our heart is not so sure to call upon lis for for- 
 bearance, it might frequently be dangerous. Yet do not think," he 
 added, after pausing for a moment, " that I intend to decline the task 
 on this account. Honoring your judgment, as I do, feeling such attach- 
 ment to your noble friend, such eagerness to forward his recovery by 
 whatever means, I willingly forget myself and my opinions. It is not 
 enough that we can risk our life to serve a friend ; in the hour of 
 need we shoiild also yield him our convictions. Our dearest pas- 
 sions, our best wishes we are bound to sacrifice in helping him. I 
 undertake the charge ; though it is easy to foresee the pain 1 shall have 
 to suffer from the tears, from the despair of Lydia." 
 
 " And for this, no small reward awaits you," aiaswered Jarno : 
 ' ' Fraulein Theresa, whom you get acquainted with, is a lady such as
 
 SOOK VII. CHAPTER IV 323 
 
 you will rarely see. She puts many a man to shame : I may say, she 
 is a genuine Amazon ; while others are but pretty counterfeits, that 
 wander up and down the world in that ambiguous dress." 
 
 Wilhelm was struck : he almost fancied that in Theresa he would 
 find his Amazon again ; especially as Jarno, whom he importuned to 
 tell him more, broke off abruptly, and went away. 
 
 The new, near hope of once more seeing that beloved and honored 
 being, awoke a thousand feelings in his heart. He now looked upon 
 the task, which had been given him, as the intervention of a special 
 Providence ; the thought that he was minded treacherously to carry 
 off a helpless girl from the object of her sincerest, warmest love, dwelt 
 but a moment in his mind, as the shadow of a bird flits over the sun- 
 shiny earth. 
 
 The coach was at the door ; Lydia lingered for a moment, as she 
 was about to mount. " Salute your lord again for me," said she to 
 the old servant ; " tell him that I shall be home before night." Tears 
 were standing in her eyes, as she again looked back when the carriage 
 started. She then turned round to Wilhelm ; made an affort to com- 
 pose herself, and said : "In Friiulein Theresa you will find a very 
 interesting person. I wonder what it is that brings lier hither ; for, 
 you must know, Lothario and she once passionately loved each other. 
 In sj)ite of the distance, he often used to visit her : I was staying with 
 her then ; I thought they would have lived and died for one another. 
 But all at once it went to wreck, no creature could discover why. He 
 had seen me, and I must confess that I was envious of Theresa's for- 
 tune ; that I scarcely hid my love from him ; that when he suddenly- 
 appeared to choose me in her stead, I could not but accept him. She 
 behaved to me beyond my wishes ; though it almost seemed as if I 
 had robbed her of this precious lover. But ah, how many thousand tears 
 and pains that love of his has cost me ! At first we met only now and 
 then, and by stealth, at some appointed place ; but I could not long 
 endure that kind of life : in his presence only was I hapjiy, wholly 
 happy ! Far from him, my eyes were never dry, my jmlse was never 
 calm. Once he stayed away for several days : I was altogether in 
 despair ; I ordered out my carriage, and surprised him here. He 
 received me tenderly ; and had not this unlucky quarrel happened, I 
 should have led a heavenly life with him. But since the time when 
 he began to be in danger and m pain, I shall not say what I have 
 suffered : at this moment I am bitterly reproaching myself, that I 
 could leave him for a single day. 
 
 Wilhelm was proceeding to inquire about Theresa, when they 
 reached the lawyer's house. This gentleman came forward to the 
 coach, lamenting woefully that Friiulein Theresa was already gone. 
 He invited them to breakfast ; signifying, however, that the lady 
 might be overtaken in the nearest village. They determined upon 
 following her : the coachman did not loiter ; they had soon passed 
 several villages, and yet come up with nobody. Lydia now gave
 
 334 MEI8TEB' 8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 orders for returning ; tlie coachman drove along, as if he did not 
 understand her. As she insisted with redoubled_vehemence, Wilhelm 
 called to him, and gave the promised token. The coachman answered 
 that it was not necessary to go back by the same road ; he knew a 
 shorter, and at the same time greatly easier one. He now turned 
 aside across a wood, and over large commons. At last, no object they 
 could recognize appearing, he confessed that, unfortunately, he had 
 lost his way ; declaring at the same time that he would soon get right 
 again, as he saw a little town before him. Night came on ; the coach- 
 man managed so discreetly that he asked everywhere, and nowhere 
 waited for an answer. He drove along all night : Lydia never closed 
 an eye ; in the moonshine she was constantly detecting similarities, 
 which as constantly turned out to be dissimilar. In the morning, 
 things around seemed known to her, and but more strange on that 
 account. The coach drew up before a neat little country-house ; a 
 young lady stepped out, and opened the carriage door. Lydia looked 
 at her with a stare of wonder ; looked round, looked at her again ; 
 and fainted in the arms of Wilhelm. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Wilhelm was conducted to a little uj)per room : the house was 
 new, as small nearly as it could be, and extremely orderly and clean. 
 In Theresa, who had welcomed him and Lydia at the coach, he had 
 not found his Amazon : she was another and altogether different 
 woman. Handsome, and but of middle stature, she moved about 
 with great alertness ; and it seemed as if her clear, blue, open eyes 
 let nothing that occurred escape them. 
 
 She entered Wilhelm's room, inquiring if he wanted anything. 
 "Pardon me," said she, " for having lodged you in a chamber which 
 tlie smell of paint still renders disagreeable : my little dwelling is 
 l)ut just made ready : you are handseling this room, which is ap- 
 pointed for my guests. Would that you had come on some more 
 pleasant errand ! Poor Lydia is like to be a dull companion ; in other 
 points, also, you will have mucli to pardon. My cook has run away 
 from me, at this unseasonable time, and a serving-man has bruised 
 his hand. The case might happen I had to manage everything 
 myself ; and if it were so, why then we should just put up with it. 
 One is plagued so with nobody as with one's servants ; none of them 
 will serve j'ou, scarcely even serve himself." 
 
 She said a good deal more on different matters ; in general she 
 seemed to like speaking. Wilhelm inquired for Lydia ; if he might 
 not see her, and endeavor to excuse liimself. 
 
 " It will have no effect at present," said Theresa; "time excuses,
 
 BOOK VII. CHAPTER V. 325 
 
 as it comforts. Words, in both cases, are of little effect. Lydia will 
 not see you. ' Keep lum from my sight,' she cried, when I was 
 leaving her. ' I could almost despair of human nature. Such an 
 lionorable countenance, so frank a manner, and this secret guile ! ' 
 Lothario she has quite forgiven ; in a letter to the poor girl he 
 declares : ' My friends persuaded me, my fi'iends compelled me ! ' 
 Among these she reckons you, and she condemns you with the rest." 
 
 " She does me too much honor in so blaming me," said Wilhelm : 
 " I have no pretension to the friendship of that noble gentleman ; on 
 this occasion, I am but a guiltless instrument. I will not praise what 
 I have done ; it is enough that I could do it. It concerned the health, 
 it concerned the life of a man, whom I value more than any one 1 
 ever knew before. O what a man is he, Friiulein ; and what men are 
 they that live about him ! In their society I, for the first time, I may 
 well say, carried on a conversation ; for the first time, was the inmost 
 sense of my words returned to me, more rich, more full, more com- 
 prehensive, from another's mouth ; what I had been groping for, 
 was rendered clear to me ; what I had been thinking, I was taught to 
 see. Unfortunately, this enjoyment was disturbed, at first by numer- 
 ous anxieties and whims, and then by this unpleasant task. I 
 undertook it with submission ; for I reckoned it my duty, even though 
 I sacrificed my feelings, to comply with the request of this gifted 
 company of men." 
 
 While he spoke, Theresa had been looking at him with a very 
 friendly air. "0 how sweet is it, to hear one's own opinion uttered 
 by a stranger tongue ! We are never properl_v ourselves until another 
 thinks entirely as we do. My own opinion of Lothario is perfectly 
 the same as yours : it is not every one tliat does him justice ; and 
 tlierefore all that know him better are enthusiastic in esteem of him. 
 The painful sentiment that mingles with the memory of him in my 
 heart, cannot liinder me from thinking of him daily." A sigh heaved 
 her bosom as she spoke thus ; and a lovely tear glittered in her right 
 eye. " Think not," continued she, " that I am so weak, so easy to be 
 moved. It is but the eye that weeps. There was a little wart upon 
 the imder eyelid ; they have happily removed it ; but the eye has 
 been weak ever since : the smallest cause brings a tear into it. Here 
 sat the little wart ; you cannot see a vestige of it now." 
 
 He saw no vestige ; but he saw into her eye ; it was clear as crys- 
 tal ; he almost imagined he could see to the very bottom of her 
 soul. 
 
 "We have now," said she, "pronounced the watchword of our 
 friendship ; let us get entirely acquainted as fast as possible. The 
 history of every person paints his own character. I will tell you 
 what my life has been : do you too place a little trust in me ; and let 
 us be united even when distance parts us. The world is so waste and 
 empty, when we figure only towns and hills and rivers in it ; but to 
 know of some one here and there whom we accord with, who is living
 
 326 MEISTER'8 APFMENTICESHIP. 
 
 on with us even in silence, tliis makes our earthly ball a peopled 
 garden." 
 
 !She hastened ofE ; engaging soon to take him out to walk. Her 
 presence had affected him agreeably : he wished to be informed of 
 her relation to Lothario. He was called ; she came to meet him from 
 her room. While they descended, necessarily one by one, the strait 
 and even steepish stairs, she said : " All this might have been larger 
 and grander, had I chosen to accept the offers of your generous friend : 
 but to continue worthy of him, I must study to retain the qualities 
 which gave me merit in his eyes. — Where is the steward?" asked 
 she, stepping from the bottom of the stairs. " You must not think," 
 continued she, " that I am rich enough to need a steward : the few 
 acres of my own little property I myself can manage well enough. 
 The steward is my new neighbor's wlio has bought a fine estate beside 
 us, every point of which I am acquainted with. The good old gentle- 
 man is lying ill of gout ; his men are strangers here ; I willingly 
 assist in settling them." 
 
 They took a walk through fields, meadows and some orchards. 
 Everywhere Theresa kept instructing the steward ; nothing so minute 
 but she could give account of it ; and Wilhelm had reason to wonder 
 at her knowledge, her percision, the prompt dexterity with which she 
 suggested means for ends. She loitered nowhere ; always hastened to 
 the leading points; and thus her task was quickly over. "Salute 
 your master," said she, as she sent away the man. " I mean to visit 
 him as soon as possible, and wish him a complete recovery. — There 
 now," she added with a smile, as soon as he was gone, " I might 
 soon be rich ; my good neighbor, I believe, would not be disinclined 
 to offer me his hand." 
 
 " The old man with the gout ? " cried Wilhelm : " I know not how, 
 at your years, you could bring yourself to make so desperate a deter- 
 mination." "Nor am I tempted to it!" said Theresa: "Whoever 
 can administer what he possesses has enough, and to be wealthy is a 
 burdensome affair, unless you understand it." 
 
 Wilhelm testified his admiration at her skill in husbandry concerns. 
 "Decided inclination, early opportunity, external impulse, and con- 
 tinued occupation in a useful business," said she, " make many things, 
 which were at first far harder, possible in life. When you have 
 learned what causes stimulated me in this pursuit, you will cease to 
 wonder at the talent you now think strange." 
 
 On returning home, she sent him to her little garden. Here he 
 could scarcely turn himself, so narrow were the walks, so thickly was 
 it sown and planted. On looking over to the court, he could not 
 help smiling : the firewood was lying there, as accurately sawed, split 
 and piled, as if it had been part of the building, and had been intended 
 to continue permanently there. The tubs and implements, all clean, 
 were standing in their places ; the house was j)ainted wliite and red ; 
 it was really pleasant to behold. Whatever can be done by handi-
 
 BOOK VII. CHAPTER VL 827 
 
 craft, which knows not beautiful proportinns, but labors for conve 
 nience, cheerfulness and durability, appeared united in this spot. 
 They served him up dinner in his own room ; he had time enough 
 for meditating. Especially it struck him, that he should have got 
 acquainted with another person of so interesting a character, who had 
 been so closely related to Lothario. " It is just," said he to him.self, 
 " that a man so gifted should attract round him gifted women. How 
 far the influence of manliness and dignity extends ! Would that 
 others did not come so woefully short, compared with him ! Yes, 
 confess thy fear. When thou meetest with thj' Amazon, this woman 
 of women, in spite of all thy hopes and dreaming, thou wilt find lier, 
 in the end, to thy humiliation and thy shame, — his bride." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WiLHELM had passed a restless afternoon, not altogther without 
 tedium ; when towards evening his door opened, and a handsome 
 hunter- boy stepped forward with a bow. " Shall we have a walk?" 
 said the youth ; and in the instant ^^'ilhelm recognized Theresa by 
 her lovely eyes. 
 
 "Pardon me this masquerade," said she; "for now, alas, it is 
 nothing more. But as I am going to tell you of the time when I so 
 enjoyed the world, 1 will recall those days, l)y every method, to my 
 fancy. Come along ! Even the place, where we have rested so often 
 from our hunts and promenades, shall help me." 
 
 They went accordingly. On the way, Theresa said to her attend- 
 ant : "It is not fair that I alone should speak : you already know 
 enough of me, I nothing about you. Tell me in the meanwhile 
 something of yourself, that I may gather courage to submit to you 
 my history and situation." " Alas ! " said Wilhelm, " I have nothing 
 to" relate but error on the back of error, deviation following deviation ; 
 and I know none from whom I would more gladly hide my present 
 and my past embarrassments than from yourself. Your look, the 
 scene you move in, your whole temperament and manner, prove to 
 me that you have reason to rejoice in your bygone life ; that you 
 have traveled by a fair, clear path, in constant progress ; that you 
 have lost no time, that you have nothing to reproach yourself withal." 
 
 Theresa ansv>'ered with a smile : " Let me see if you will think so, 
 after you have heard my history." They walked along : among some 
 general remarks, Theresa asked him : " Are you free?" " I think I 
 am," said he; "and yet I do not wish it." " Good ! " said she: 
 "that indicates a complicated story; you also have something to 
 relate.'' 
 
 Conversing thus, they ascended the hill, and placed theraselves'be
 
 328 MEISTEB '8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 side a lofty oak, which spread its shade far out on every side. 
 "Here," said she, "beneath this German tree, will I disclose to you 
 the history of a German maiden : listen to me patiently. 
 
 "My father was a wealthy nobleman of this province, a cheerful, 
 clear-sighted, active, able man ; a tender father, an upright friend, 
 an excellent economist. I knew but one fault in him ; he was too 
 compliant to a wife who did not know his worth. Alas, that I should 
 have to say so of my mother ! Her nature was the opposite of his. 
 She was quick and cliangef ul ; without affection either for her home, 
 or for me, her only child ; extravagant, but beautiful, sprightly, full 
 of talent, the delight of a circle she had gathered round her. Her 
 society in truth was never large ; nor did it long continue the same. 
 It consisted principally of men ; for no woman could like to be near 
 her, still less could sJk' endure the merit or the praise of any woman. 
 I resembled my father, both in form and dispositions. As the duck- 
 ling, with its first footsteps, seeks the water ; so, from my earliest 
 youth, the kitchen, the store-room, the granai'ies, the fields, were my 
 selected element. Cleanliness and order in the house, seemed, even 
 while I was playing in it, to be my peculiar instinct, my peculiar ob- 
 ject. This tendency gave my father pleasure ; and he directed, step 
 by step, my childish endeavor into the suitablest employments. On 
 the contrary, my mother did not like me, and she never for a moment 
 hid it. 
 
 "I waxed in stature : with my years, increased my turn for occu- 
 pation and my father's love to me. When we were b}' ourselves, 
 when walking through the fields, when I was helping to examine his 
 accounts, it was then I could see how glad he was. While gazing on 
 his eyes, I felt as if I had been looking in upon myself ; for it was 
 in the eyes that I completely resembled him. But in the presence 
 of my mother, he lost this energy, this aspect ; he excused me mildly, 
 when she blamed me unjustly and violently ; he took my part, not as 
 if he would protect me, but as if he would extenuate the demerit of 
 my good qualities. To none of her caprices did he set himself in op- 
 position. She began to be immensely taken with a passion for the 
 stage ; a theater was soon got up ; of men of all shapes and ages, 
 crowding to display themselves along with her upon her boards, she 
 had abundance ; of women, on the other hand, there was often a 
 scarcity. Lydia, a pretty girl, who had been brought up with me, 
 and who promised from the first to be extremely beautiful, had to 
 undertake the secondary parts ; the mothers and the aunts were rep- 
 resented by an ancient chambermaid ; while the leading heroines, 
 lovers, and shepherdesses of every kind, were seized on by my mother. 
 I cannot tell you how ridiculous it seemed to me, to see the people, 
 every one of whom I knew full well, standing on their scaffold, and 
 pretending, after they had dressed themselves in other clothes, to pass 
 for something else tlian Avhat they were. In my eyes tlu^y were never 
 anything but Lydia and my motlier, this baron and that secretary,
 
 BOOK VII. CHAPTER VI. 329 
 
 • 
 
 whetlier they appeared as counts aud princes or as peasants ; and I 
 could not understand liow they meant to make me think that they 
 were sad or happy, that they were indifferent or in love, liberal or 
 avaricious, when I well knew the contrary to be the case. Accord- 
 ingly, I very seldom stayed among the audience ; I always snuffed 
 their candles, that I might not be entirely without employment; I 
 prepared the supper ; and next morning before they rose 1 used to 
 have their wardrobe all sorted, which commonly, the night before, 
 they had lelt in a chaotic state. 
 
 " To my mother this activity appeared quite proper ; but her love 
 I could not gain. She despised me ; and I know for certain that she 
 more than once exclaimed with bitterness : ' If the mother could be 
 as uncertain as the father, you would scarcely take this housemaid 
 for my daughter ! ' Such treatment, I confess, at length entirely 
 estranged me from her : I viewed her conduct as the conduct of a per- 
 son unconnected with me ; and being used to watch our servants like 
 a falcon (for this, be it said in passing, is the ground of all true 
 housekeeping), the proceedings of my mother and her friends, at the 
 same time, naturally forced themselves upon my observation. It was 
 easy to perceive that she did not look on all the men alike : I gave 
 sharper heed ; and soon found out that Lydia was her confidant, and 
 had lierself, b}- this opportunity, become acquainted with a passion, 
 which from her earliest youth she had so often represented. I was 
 aware of all their meetings ; but I held ray tongue ; hinting nothing 
 to my father, whom I was afraid of troubling. At last, however, I 
 was obliged to speak. Many of their enterprises could not be ac- 
 complished without corrupting the servants. These now began to 
 grow refractory ; they despised my father's regulations, disregarded 
 my commands. The disorders which arose from this I could not toler- 
 ate ; r discovered all, complained of all to my father. 
 
 " He listened to me calmly. ' Good girl I ' replied he with a smile ; 
 ' I know it all : be quiet, bear it patiently ; for it is on thy account 
 alone that I endure it.' 
 
 " I was not quiet, I had not patience. I in secret blamed my 
 father ; for I did not think that any reason should induce him to en- 
 dure such things. I called for regularity from all the servants ; I 
 was bent on driving matters to extremity. 
 
 "My mother had been rich before her marriage ; yet she squan- 
 dered more than she had a right to ; and this, as I observed, occa- 
 sioned many conferences between my parents. For a long time, the 
 evil was not helped ; till at last the passions of my mother brought 
 it to a head. 
 
 " Her first gallant became unfaithful in a glaring manner : the 
 house, the neighborhood, her whole condition grew offensive to her. 
 She insisted on removing to a different estate ; there she was too 
 solitary : she insisted on removing to the town ; there she felt her- 
 self eclipsed among the crowd. Of much that passed between my
 
 330 MEISTER'S APPBENTIOESHIP. 
 
 father and lier I know nothing : however, he at last determined, 
 under stipulations which I did not learn, to consent that she should 
 take a journey, which she had been meditating, to the south of 
 France. 
 
 " We were now free ; we lived as if in heaven ; I do believe, my 
 father could not be a loser, had he purchased her absence by a con- 
 siderable sum. All our useless domestics were dismissed ; and for- 
 tune seemed to smile ou our undertakings : we had some extremely 
 prosperous years ; all things succeeded to our wish. But, alas, this 
 pleasing state was not of long continuance ; altogether unexpectedly 
 my father had a shock of palsy ; it lamed his right side, and deprived 
 him of the proper use of speech. We had to guess at everything 
 that he required ; for he never could pronounce the word that he in- 
 tended. There were times when this was dreadfully afflicting to us : 
 he would require expressly to be left alone with me ; with earnest 
 gestures he would signify that every one should go away ; and when 
 we saw ourselves alone, he could not speak the word he meant. His 
 impatience mounted to the highest pitch : his situation touched me 
 to the inmost heart. Thus much seemed certain : he had something 
 which he wished to tell me, which especially concerned my interest. 
 What longing did I feel to knov.' it ! At other times, I could discover 
 all things in his eyes ; but now it was in vain. Even his eyes no 
 longer spoke. Only this was clear : he wanted nothing, he desired 
 nothing : he was striving to discover something to me ; which un- 
 happily I did not learn. His malady revisited him : he grew en- 
 tirely inactive, incapable of motion, and a short time afterwards he 
 died. 
 
 " I know not how it got rooted in my thoughts that somewhere he 
 had hid a treasure, which he wished at death to leave me rather. than 
 my mother : I searched about for traces of it while he lived, but I 
 could meet with none ; at his death a seal was put on everything. I 
 wrote to my mother, offering to continue in the house, and manage 
 for her : she refused, and I was obliged to leave the place. A mutual 
 testament was now produced ; it gave my mother the possession and 
 the use of all ; and I was left, at least throughout her life, dependent 
 on her. It was now that I conceived I rightly understood my father's 
 beckoning : I pitied him for having been so weak ; he had let himself 
 be forced to do unjustly to me even after he was dead. Certain of 
 my friends maintained, that it was little better than if he had disin- 
 herited me : they called upon me to attack the will by law ; but this 
 I never could resolve on doing. I reverenced my father's memory too 
 much ; I trusted in destiny ; I trusted in myself. 
 
 " There was a lady in the neighborhood possessed of large property, 
 with whom I had always been on good terms : she gladly received 
 me ; I engaged to superintend her household, and ere long the task 
 grew very easy to me. She lived regularly, she loved order in every- 
 thing ; and I faithfully assisted her in struggling with her steward.
 
 BOOK VII. CHAPTER VI. 331 
 
 and domestics. I am neither of a niggardly nor grudging temper ; 
 but we women are disposed to insist, more earnestly than men, that 
 nothing shall be wasted. Embezzlement of all sorts is intolerable 
 to us : we require that each enjoy exactly in so far as right entitles 
 him. 
 
 " Here I was in my element once more ; I mourned my father's 
 death in silence. My protectress was content with me : one small 
 circumstance alone disturbed my peace. L3'dia returned : my mother 
 had been harsh enough to cast the poor girl off, after having 
 altogether spoiled her. Lydia had learned with her mistress to con- 
 sider passions as her occupation ; slie was wont to curb herself 
 in nothing. On her unexpected reappearance, the lady whom I 
 lived with took her in ; she wished to help me, but could train her- 
 self to nothing. 
 
 "About this time, the relatives and future heirs of my protectress 
 often visited the house, to recreate themselves with hunting. Lothario 
 was frequently among them : it was not long till I had noticed, 
 though without the smallest reference to myself, how far he was 
 superior to the rest. He was courteous towards all ; and Lydia 
 seemed ere long to have attracted his attention to her. Constantly 
 engaged in something, I was seldom with the company ; while he 
 was there I did not talk so much as usual ; for I will confess it, lively 
 conversation, from of old, had been to me the finest seasoning of 
 existence. With my father I was wont to talk of everything that 
 happened. What you do not speak of, you will seldom accurately 
 think of. No uian had I ever heard with greater pleasure than I did 
 Lothario, when he told us of his travels and campaigns. The world 
 appeared to lie before him clear and open, as to me the district was in 
 which I lived and managed. We were not entertained with marvel- 
 ous personal adventures, the extravagant half-truths of a shallow 
 traveler, who is always painting out himself, and not the coun- 
 try he has undertaken to describe. Lothario did not tell us his 
 adventures ; he led us to the place itself. I have seldom felt so pure 
 a satisfaction. 
 
 " But still higher was my pleasure, when I heard him talk one 
 evening, about women. The subject happened to be introduced : 
 some ladies of the neighborhood had come to see us ; and were speak- 
 ing, in the common style, about the cultivation of the female mind. 
 Our sex, they said, was treated unjustly ; every sort of higher educa- 
 tion men insisted on retaining for themselves : they admitted us to no 
 science, they required us either to be dolls or family drudges. To all 
 this Lothario said not much : but when the party was a little thinned, 
 he gave us his opinion more explicitly. ' It is very strange,' cried he, 
 'that men are blamed for their proceeding here: they have placed 
 woman on the highest station she is capable of occup3'ing. And where 
 is there any station higher than the ordering of a house ? While the 
 li\isband has to vex himself with outward matters, while he ha.s
 
 832 MEISTHJR '8 A PPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 wealth to gatlier and secure, while perhaps he takes part in the ad- 
 ministration of the state, and everywhere depends on circumstances ; 
 ruling nothing, I may say, while he conceives that he is luling much ; 
 compelled to be but politic where he would willingly be reasonable, 
 to dissemble where he would be open, to be false where he would be 
 upright ; while thus, for the sake of an object which he never reaches, 
 he must every moment sacrifice the first of objects, hannony with 
 himself, — a reasonable housewife is actually governing in the interior 
 of her family ; has the comfort and activity of every person in it to 
 provide for, and make possible. What is the highest happiness of 
 mortals, if not to execute what we consider right and good ; to be 
 really masters of the means conducive to our aims ? And where 
 should or can our nearest aims be, but in the interior of our home? 
 All those indispensable, and still to be renewed supplies, where do we 
 expect, do we require to find them, if not in the place where we rise 
 and where we go to sleep, where kitchen and cellar, and every species 
 of accommodation for oui'selves and ours is to be always leady ? What 
 unvarying activity is needed to conduct this constantly recurring series 
 in unbroken living order ! Hov,' few are the men, to whom it is given to 
 return regularly like a star, to command their day as they command 
 their night ; to form for themselves their household instruments, to 
 sow and to reap, to gain and to expend, and to travel round their 
 circle with perpetual success and peace and love ! It is when a woman 
 has attained this inward mastery, that she truly makes the husband 
 whom she loves a master ; her attention will acquire i:ll sorts of knowl- 
 edge ; her activity will turn them all to profit. Thus is she depend- 
 ent upon no one ; and she procures her husband genuine independence, 
 that which is interior and domestic : whatever he possesses, he beholds 
 secured ; what he earns, well employed ; and thus he can direct his 
 mind to lofty objects, and if fortune favors, he may act in the state 
 the same character which so well becomes his wife at home.' 
 
 " He then described to us the kind of wife he wished. I reddened ; 
 for he was describing me as I looked and lived. I silently enjoyed 
 my triumph ; and the more, as I perceived, from all the circumstan- 
 ces, that he had not meant me individually, that indeed he did not 
 know me. I cannot recollect a more delightful feeling in my life 
 than this, when a man whom I so highly valued gave the preference, 
 not to my person, but to my inmost nature. What a recompense did 
 I consider it ! What encouragement did it afford nu' ! 
 
 ' ' So soon as they were gone, my worthy benefactress, with a smile, 
 observed to mc : ' Pity that men often think and speak of what the}' 
 wiJl never execute, else here were a special match, the exact thing 
 for my dear Theresa ! ' I made sport of her remark ; and added, that 
 indeed men's understanding gave its vote for household wives ; Imt 
 that their heart and imagination longed for other qualities ; and that 
 we household people could not stand a rivalry with beautiful and 
 lovely women. This was spoken for the ear of Lydia ; she did not
 
 BOOK Vll. CHAPTER VI 333 
 
 hide from us that Lothario had made a deep impression on her heart ; 
 and in reality, he seemed at each new visit to grow more and more 
 attentive to her. She was poor and not of rank ; she could not think 
 of marriage ; but she was unable to resist the dear delight of charm- 
 ing and of being charmed. I had never loved, nor did I love at 
 present ; but though it was unspeakably agreeable to see in what light 
 my turn of mind was viewed, how high it was ranked by such a man, 
 I will confess I was still not altogether satisfied. I now wished that 
 he should be acquainted with me, and should take a personal interest 
 in me. This wish arose, without the smallest settled thought of any- 
 thing that could result from it. 
 
 " The greatest service I did my benefactress, was in bringing into 
 order the extensive forests which belonged to her. In this precious 
 property, wliose value time and circumstances were continually in- 
 creasing, matters still went on according to the old routine : without 
 regularity, without plan ; no end to theft and fraud. Many hills 
 were standing bare ; an equal growth was nowhere to be found but 
 in the oldest cuttings. I personally visited the whole of them, with 
 an experienced forester. I got the woods correctly measured ; I set 
 men to hew, to sow, to plant ; in a short time, all things were in pro- 
 gress. That I might mount more readily on horseback, and also walk 
 on foot with less obstruction, I had a suit of men's clothes made for 
 me ; I was present in many places, I was feared in all. 
 
 " Hearing that our young friends with Lothario were purposing to 
 have another hunt, it came into my head, for the first time in my life, 
 to make a figure ; or that I may not do myself injustice, to pass in the 
 eyes of this noble gentleman for what I was. I put on my men's 
 clothes, took my gun upon my shoulder, and went forward with 
 our hunters, to await the party on our marches. They came ; Lotha- 
 rio did not know me : a nephew of the lady's introduced me to him as 
 a clever forester ; joked about my youth, and carried on his jesting in 
 ray praise, till at last Lothario recognized me. The nephew seconded 
 my project, as if we had concocted it together. He circumstantially 
 and gratefully described what I had done for the estates of his aunt, 
 and consequently for himself. 
 
 "Lothario listened with attention; he talked with me; inquired 
 concerning all particulars of the estates and district. I of course 
 was glad to have such an opportunity of showing him my knowl- 
 edge : I stood my ordeal very well ; I submitted certain projects of 
 improvement to him ; which he sanctioned, telling me of similar ex- 
 amples, and strengthening my arguments by the connection which 
 he gave them. My satisfaction grew more perfect every moment. 
 Happily, however, I merely wished that he should be acquainted 
 with me, not that he .should love me. We came hoaie ; and I ob- 
 served more clearly than before, that the attention he showed to 
 Lydia seemed expressive of a secret inclination. I had reached my 
 object ; yet I was not at rest : from that day he showed a true respect
 
 HU MEISTER' 8 APPRENTICESHIP. . 
 
 for me, a fine trust in me ; in company Le usually spoke to me, asked 
 my opinion, and appeared to be persuaded tliat, in household matters, 
 nothing was unknown to me. His sympathy excited me extremely : 
 even when the conversation was of general finance and political 
 economy, he used to lead me to take part in it ; and in his absence, 
 I endeavored to acquire more knowledge of our province, nay, of all 
 tlie empire. The task was easy for me : it was but repeating on the 
 great scale what I knew so accurately on the small. 
 
 "From this period he visited our house oftener. -We talked, I 
 may say, of everything : yet in some degree our conversation ahvays 
 in the end grew economical, if oven but in a secondary sense. What 
 immense effects a man, by the continuous application of his powers, 
 his time, his money, even by means which seem but small, may 
 bring about, was frequently and largely spoken of. 
 
 " I did not withstand the tendency which drew me towards him : 
 and, alas, I felt too soon how deep, how cordial, how pure and 
 genuine was my love, as I believed it more and more apparent that 
 Lydia and not myself was the occasion of these visits. She, at 
 least, was most vividly persuaded so ; she made me her confidant ; 
 and this, again, in some degree, consoled me. For in truth, what she 
 explained so much to her advantage, I reckoned nowise of import- 
 ance ; there was not a trace of any serious lasting union being medi- 
 tated ; but tlie more distinctly did I see the wish of the impassioned 
 girl to be his at any price. 
 
 " Thus did matters stand, when the lady of the house surprised me 
 with an unexpected message. ' Lothario,' said slie, ' offers you his 
 hand, and desires through life to have you ever at his side.' She 
 enlarged upon my qualities, and told me, what I liked sufficiently to 
 hear, that in me Lothario was persuaded he had found the peTson 
 whom he had so long been seeking for. 
 
 "The height of happiness was now attained for me; my hand 
 was asked by a man for whom I had the greatest value ; beside 
 whom and along with whom I might expect a full, expanded, free 
 and profitable employment of my inborn tendency, of my talent 
 perfected by practice. The sum of my existence seemed to have en- 
 larged itself into infinitude. I gave my consent ; he himself came, 
 and spoke ^^ath me in private ; he held out his hand to me ; he 
 looked into my eyes, he clasped me in his arms, and pressed a kiss 
 upon my lips. It was the first and the last. He confided to me all 
 his circumstances ; told me how much his American campaign had 
 cost him, what debts he had accumulated on his property : that, on 
 this score, he had in some measure quarreled with his grand-uncle ; 
 that the worthy gentleman intended to relieve him, though truly in 
 his own peculiar way, being minded to provide him with a rich wife, 
 whereas a man of sense would choose a household wife at all events ; 
 that, however, by liis .sister's influence, he hoped his noble relative 
 would be persuaded. He set before me the condition of his fortune,
 
 BOOK Vn. CHAPTER VI 335 
 
 Ilia plans, his prospects, and requested my co-operation. Till his 
 uncle should consent, our promise was to be a secret. 
 
 " Scarcely was he gone, when Lydia asked me, whether he had 
 spoken of her. I answered no ; and tired her with a long detail of 
 economical affairs. She M-as restless, out of humor ; and his con- 
 duct, when he came again, did not improve her situation. 
 
 " But the sun, I see, is bending to the place of rest. Well for you, 
 my friend ! You would otherwise have had to hear this story, which 
 I often enough go over by myself, in all its most minute particulars. 
 Let me hasten : we are coming to an epoch, on which it is not good 
 to linger. 
 
 "By Lothario I was made acquainted with liis noble sister ; and 
 she, at a convenient time, contrived to introduce me to the uncle. I 
 gained the old man ; he consented to our wishes ; and I returned, 
 ■with happy tidings, to my benefactress. The affair was now no 
 secret in the house : Lydia heard of it ; she thought the thing impos- 
 sible. When she could no longer doubt of it, she vanished all at 
 once : we knew not whither she had gone. 
 
 " Our marriage-day was coining near: I had often asked him for 
 his portrait ; just as he v.as going off, I reminded him that he had 
 promised it. He said : ' You have never given me the case you want 
 to have it fitted into.' This was true: I had got a present from a 
 female friend, on which I set no ordinary value. Her name, worked 
 from her own hair, was fastened on the outer glass ; within there was 
 a vacant piece of ivory, on Avhich her portrait was to have been 
 painted, when a sudden death snatched her from me. Lothario's 
 love had cheered me at the time her death lay heavj' on my spirits ; 
 and 1 wished to have the void, which she had left me in her present, 
 filled by the picture of my friend. 
 
 " I ran to my chamber ; fetched my jewel-box, and opened it in his 
 presence. Scarcely had he looked into it, when he noticed a medalion 
 with the portrait of a lady. He took it in his hand, considered it 
 attentively, and asked me hastily whose face it was. ' My mother's,' 
 answered L ' I could have sworn,' said he, 'that it was the portrait 
 of a Madame Saint Alban, whom I met some years ago in Switzer- 
 land.' ' It is the same,' replied I, smiling ; ' and so you have unwit- 
 tingly become acquainted with your stepmother. Saint Alban is the 
 name my mother has assumed for traveling with : she passes under 
 it in France at present.' 
 
 " ' I am the miserablcst man alive ! ' exclaimed he, as he threw the 
 portrait back into the box, covered his eyes with his hand, and hur- 
 ried from the room. He sprang on horseback ; I ran to the balcony, 
 and called out after him ; he turned, waved his hand to me, went 
 speedily away — and I haA'e never seen him more." 
 
 The sun went down : Theresa gazed with unaverted looks upon the 
 splendor ; and both her fine eyes filled with tears. 
 
 Theresa spoke not ; she laid her hand upon her new friend's hands ;
 
 336 MEISTEB'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 lie kissed it witli emotion : she dried her tears, and rose. "Let us 
 return, and see that all is right," said she. 
 
 The conversation was not lively by the way. They entered the 
 garden door, and noticed Lydia sitting on a bench : she rose, with- 
 drew before them, and wallied in. She had a paper in her hand ; two 
 little girls were by her. "I see," observed Theresa, "she is still 
 carrying her only comfort, Lothario's letter, wdth her. He promises 
 that she shall live with him again, so soon as he is well : he begs of 
 lier till then to stay in peace with me. On these words she hangs ; 
 with these lines she solaces herself ; but with his friends she is 
 extremely angry. " 
 
 Meanwhile the two children had approached. They courtesied to 
 Theresa, and gave her an account of all that had occurred while she 
 was absent. " You see here another part of my employment," said 
 Theresa. "Lothario's sister and 1 have made a league : we educate 
 some little ones in common ; such as promise to be lively, serviceable 
 housewives I take charge of ; she of such as show a finer and more 
 quiet talent ; it is right to provide for the happiness of future hus- 
 bands, both in household and in intellectual matters. When you 
 become acquainted with my noble friend, a new era in your life will 
 open. Her beauty, her goodness, make her worthy of the reverence 
 of the world." Wilhelm did not venture to confess that, unhappily, 
 the lovely countess was already known to him ; that his transient con- 
 nection with her would occasion him perpetual sorrow. He was well 
 pleased that Theresa let the conversation drop ; that some business 
 called for her within. He was now alone : the intelligence which he 
 had just received, of the young and lovely countess being driven to 
 replace, by deeds of benevolence, her own lost comfort, made him 
 very sad ; he felt that with her it was bat a need of self-oblivion, an 
 attempt to supply, by the hopes of happiness to others, the want of a 
 cheerful enjoyment of existence in herself. He thought Theresa 
 happy, since even in that unexpected melancholy alteration which 
 had taken place in her prospects, there was no alteration needed in 
 herself "How fortunate beyond all others," cried he, "is the man 
 who, in order to adjust himself to fate, is not required to cast away 
 his whole preceding life ! " 
 
 Theresa came into his room, and begged pardon for disturbing 
 him. " My whole library," said she, "is in the wall-press here; 
 they are rather books which I do not throw aside, than which I have 
 taken up. Lydia wants a pious book : there are one or two of that 
 sort among them. Persons who throughout the whole twelve months 
 {\re worldly, think it necessary to be godly at a time of straits : all 
 moral and religious matters they regard as physic, which is to be 
 taken, with aversion, when they are unwell : in a clergyman, a 
 moralist, they see nothing but a doctor, whom they cannot soon 
 enough get rid of. Now, 1 confess, I look upon religion as a kind 
 of diet, which can only be so when 1 niake a constant practice of it,
 
 BOOK VIL CHAPTER VT. 337 
 
 when througliout tlie whole twelve months I never lose it out of 
 sight. " 
 
 She searched among the books ; she found some edifying works, as 
 they are called. " It was of my mother," said Theresa, "that poor 
 Lydia learned to have recourse to books like these. While her 
 gallant continued faithful, plays and novels were her life ; his de- 
 parture brought religious writings once more into credit. I, for my 
 share, cannot understand," continued she, "how men have made 
 themselves believe that (iod speaks to us through books and 
 histories. The man, to whom the universe does not reveal directly 
 what relation it has to him ; whose heart does not tell him what 
 he owes to himself and others, — that man will scarcely learn it out 
 of books ; which generally do little more than give our errors 
 names. " 
 
 She left our friend alone : he passed his evening in examining the 
 little library ; it had, in truth, been gathered quite at random. 
 
 Theresa, for the few days Wilhelm spent with her, continued still 
 the same : she related to him, at different times, the consequences of 
 that singular incident with great minuteness. Day and hour, place 
 and name, were present to her memory : we shall here compress into 
 a word or two, so much of it as will be necessary for the informa- 
 tion of our readers. 
 
 The reason of Lothario's quick departure was unhappily too easy 
 to explain. He had met Theresa's mother on her journey : her 
 charms attracted him ; she was no niggard of them ; and this luck- 
 less transitory aberration came at length to shut him out from being 
 united to a lady, whom nature seemed to have expressly made for 
 him. As for Theresa, she continued in the pure circle of her duties. 
 They learned that Lydia had been living in the neighborhood in 
 secret. She was happy that the marriage, though for unknown 
 causes, had not been completed. She endeavored to renew her in- 
 timacy with Lothario : and more, as it seemed, out of desperation 
 than affection, by surprise than with consideration, from tedium than 
 of purpose, he had met her wishes. 
 
 Theresa was quiet on the sabject ; she made no pretensions 
 farther to him ; and if he had even been her husband, she Avould 
 probably have had sufficient spirit to endure a matter of this kind, 
 if it had not troubled her domestic order : at least she often used to 
 say, that a wife, who properly conducted her economy, should take 
 no umbrage at such little fancies of her husband, but be always cer- 
 tain that he would return. 
 
 Ere long, Theresa's mother had deranged her fortune : the losses 
 fell upon the daughter, whose share of tlie effects, in consequence, 
 was small. The old lady, who had been Theresa's benefactress, 
 died ; leaving her a little propert}- in land, and a handsome sum by 
 way of legacy. Theresa soon contrived to make herself at home in 
 this new narrow circle. Lothario offered her a better property, Jarno
 
 338 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 endeavoring to negotiate the business : but she refused it. "I will 
 show," said she, "in this little that I deserved to share the great 
 with hmi ; but I keep this before me, that, should accident embarrass 
 me, on my own account or that of others, I will betake myself with- 
 out the smallest hesitation to my generous friend." 
 
 There is nothing less liable to be concealed and unemployed than 
 well-directed practical activity. Scarcely had she settled in her little 
 property, when iier acquaintance and advice began to be desired by 
 many of her neighbors ; and the proprietor of the adjacent lands 
 gave her plainly enough to understand, that it depended on herself 
 alone, whether she would take his hand, and be heiress of the 
 greater part of his estates. She had already mentioned the matter 
 to our friend ; she often jested with him about marriages, suitable and 
 unsuitable. 
 
 "Nothing," said she once, "gives a greater loose to people's 
 tongues, than when a marriage happens, which they can denominate 
 unsuitable : and yet the unsuitable are far more common than the 
 suitable ; for, alas, with most marriages, it is not long till things 
 assume a very piteous look. The confusion of ranks by marriage can 
 be called unsuitable, only when the one party is unable to participate 
 in the manner of existence which is native, habitual, and which at 
 length grows absolutely necessary to the other. The different classes 
 have different ways of living, which they cannot change or communi- 
 cate to one another ; and this is the reason why connections such as 
 these, in general, were better not formed. Yet exceptions, and ex- 
 ceptions of the happiest kind, are possible. Thus too, the marriage 
 of a young woman with a man advanced in life is generally unsuit- 
 able ; yet I have seen some such turn out extremely well. For me, I 
 know but of one kind of marriage that would be entirely unsuitable : 
 that in which I should be called upon to make a show, and manage 
 ceremonies : I had rather give my hand to the son of any honest 
 farmer in the neighborhood. " 
 
 Wilhelm at length made ready for returning. He requested of 
 Theresa to obtain for him a parting word with Lydia. The impas- 
 sioned girl at last consented : he said some kindly things to her ; to 
 which she answered : " The first burst of anguish I have conquered. 
 Lothario will be ever dear to me ; but for those friends of his, I know 
 them ; and it grieves me that they are a.bout him. The abbe, for a 
 whim's sake, could leave a person in extreme need, or even plunge 
 one into it ; the doctor would have all things go on like clock-work ; 
 Jarno has no heart ; and you — at least no force of character ! Just 
 go on ; let these three people use you as their tool ; they will have 
 many an execution to commit to you. For a long time, as 1 know 
 well, my presence has been hateful to them ; I had not found out 
 their secret, but I had observed that they had one. Why these bolted 
 rooms, these strange ]iassagps ? Why can no one ever reacli the cen- 
 tral tower ? Why did they banish me, whenever they could, to my
 
 BOOK riL CHAPTER VII. 339 
 
 own chamber? 1 will confess, jealousy at first incited me to tliese 
 discoveries ; I feared some lucky rival miglit be hid there. I have 
 now laid aside that suspicion ; I am -well convinced that Lothario 
 loves me, that he means honorably by me ; but I am quite as well 
 convinced that his false and artful friends betray him. If you would 
 really do him service ; if you would ever be forgiven for the injury 
 which I have suffered from you, free liim from the hands of these men. 
 But what am I expecting ! Give this letter to him : repeat what it 
 contains ; that I will love him forever, that I depend upon his word. 
 Ah ! " cried she, rising and throwing herself with tears upon Theresa's 
 neck ; "he is surrounded by my foes ; they will endeavor to per- 
 suade him that I have sacrificed nothing for his sake. O ! Lothario 
 may well believe that he is worthy of any sacrifice, without needing 
 to be grateful for it." 
 
 Wilhebn's parting with Theresa was more cheerful : she wished 
 they might soon meet again. " Me you wholly know," said she : " I 
 alone have talked while we have been together. It will be your duty, 
 next time, to repay my candor." 
 
 During his return, he kept contemplating this new and bright phe- 
 nomenon, with the liveliest recollection. What confidence had she 
 inspired him with ! He thought of Mignon and Felix ; and how 
 happy they might be if under her direction ; then he thought of 
 himself ; and felt what pleasure it would be to live beside a being so 
 entirely serene and clear. As he approached Lothario's castle, he 
 observed, with more than usual interest, the central tower and the 
 many passages and side buildings ; he resolved to question Jarno or 
 the abb6 on the subject, by the earliest opportunity. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 On arriving at the castle, Wilhelm found its noble owner in the 
 way of full recovery ; the doctor and the abb6 had gone off ; Jarno 
 alone was there. It was not long till the patient now and then could 
 ride ; sometimes by himself ; sometimes with his friends. His con- 
 versation was at once courteous and earnest, instructive and enliven- 
 ing ; you could often notice in it traces of a tender sensibility, although 
 he strove to hide it, and almost seemed to blame it, when in spite of 
 him it came to view. 
 
 One evening while at table he was silent, though his look was very 
 cheerful. 
 
 "To-day," said Jarno, "you have met with an adventure ; and a 
 pleasing'one?" 
 
 " I give you credit for your penetration ! " said Lothario. "Yes, I 
 have met vsath a very pleasing adventure. At another time, perhaps
 
 840 MEISTEB'S APPRENTIGESmP. 
 
 I should not have considered it so charming as to-day, when it came 
 upon me so attractively. Towards night, I rode out beyond the river, 
 through the hamlets, by a path which I had often visited in former 
 years. My corporeal sulJerings must have reduced me more than I sup- 
 posed ; I felt weak ; but as my strength was re-awakening, I was as it 
 were new-born. All objects seemed to wear the hues they had in earlier 
 times ; all looked graceful, lovely, charming, as they have not looked 
 to me for many years. I easily observed that it was mere debility ; 
 yet I continued to enjoy it ; I rode softly onwards, and could now 
 conceive how men may grow to like diseases, which attune us to 
 those sweet emotions. You know, perhaps, what used of old so fre- 
 quently to lead me that way ? " 
 
 "If I mistake not," answered Jarno, "it Avas a little love concern 
 you were engaged in with a farmer's daughter. " 
 
 "It might be called a great one," said Lothario ; " for we loved 
 each other deeply, seriously and for a long time. To-day, it happened, 
 everytliing combined to represent before me in its liveliest color the 
 earliest season of our love. The boys were again shaking maybugs 
 from the trees ; the ashen grove had not grown larger since the day 
 I saw lier first. It was now long since I had met with Margaret. She 
 is married at a distance ; and I had heard by chance, that she was 
 come with her children, some weeks ago, to pay a visit to her father." 
 
 " This ride, then, was not altogether accidental'?" 
 
 "I will not deny," replied Lothario, "that I wished to meet her. 
 On coming near the house, I saw her father sitting at the door ; a 
 child of probably a year old was standing by him. As I approached, 
 a female gave a hasty look from an upper window ; and a minute 
 afterwards, I heard some person tripping downstairs. I thought 
 surely it was she ; and I will confess, I was flattering myself that she 
 liad recognized me, and was hastening to meet me. But what was 
 my surprise and disappointment, when she bounded from the door; 
 seized the child, to which the horses had come pretty close,, and took 
 it iu ! It gave me a painful twinge ; my vanity, however, was a little 
 solaced, when I thought I saw a tint of redness on her neck, and on 
 the ear, which was uncovered. 
 
 " I drew up, and spoke a little with the father, glancing sideways, 
 in the meantime, over all the windows, to observe if she would not 
 appear at some of them ; but no trace of her was visible. Ask I 
 would not ; so I rode away. My displeasure was a little mollified by 
 wonder : though I had not seen the face, it appeared to me that she 
 was scarcely clianged ; and ten years are a pretty space ! Nay, she 
 looked even younger, quite as slim, as light of foot ; her neck, if pos- 
 sible, was lovelier than before ; her cheeks as quick at blushing ; yet 
 she was the mother of six children, perhaps of more. This appari- 
 tion suited the enchantment which surrounded me so well, that I rode 
 along with feelings grown still younger ; and I did not turn till I was 
 at the forest, when the sun was going down. Strongly as the falling
 
 BOOK VII. CHAPTER VIL 341 
 
 dew, and the prescription of our doctor, called upon me to proceed 
 direct homewards, I could not help again going round by the farm- 
 house. 1 observed a woman wallcing up and down the garden, which 
 is fenced by a light hedge. I rode along the footpath to it ; and found 
 myself at no great distance from the person whom I wanted. 
 
 " Tliough the evening sun was glancing in my eyes, I saw that she 
 was busy with the hedge, which only slightly covered her. I thought 
 I recognized my mistress. On ct)raing up, I halted, not without a 
 palpitation at the lieart. Some high twigs of wild roses, wliich a 
 soft air was blowing to and fro, made her figure indistinct to me. I 
 spoke to her, asked her how she was. She answered in an under- 
 tone, 'Quite well.' In the meantime I" perceived a child behind the 
 hedge, engaged in plucking roses, and I took the opportunity of ask- 
 ing where her other children were. 'It is not my child,' said she : 
 ' that were rather early ! ' And at this moment, it liappened that the 
 twigs were blown aside, and her face could be distinctly seen. I 
 knew not what to make of the affair. It was my mistress, and it was 
 not. Almost younger, almost lovelier than she used to be ten years 
 before. 'Are you not the fanner's daughter, then?' inquired I, half 
 confused. ' No,' said she, ' I am her cousin.' 
 
 " ' You resemble one another wonderfully,' added I. 
 
 " 'Yes, so says every one that knew her half-a-score of years ago.' 
 
 "I continued putting various questions to her; my mistake was 
 pleasant to me, even after 1 had found it out. I could not leave this 
 living image of bygone blessedness, that stood before me. The child 
 meanwhile had gone away ; it had wandered to the pond in search 
 of flowers. She took her leave, and hastened after it. 
 
 "I had now, however, learned that my former love was really in 
 her father's house: while riding forward, I employed myself in 
 guessing whether it had been her cousin or she that had secured the 
 child from harm. I more than once, in thought, repeated all the cir- 
 ciimstances of the incident ; I can remember few things that have 
 affected me more gratefully. But I feel that I am still unwell ; we 
 must ask the doctor to deliver us from tlie remains of this pathetic 
 humor." 
 
 With confidential narratives of pretty love adventures, it often hap- 
 pens as with gliost stories ; when the first is told, the others follow 
 of themselves. 
 
 Our little party, in recalling other times, found numerous passages 
 of this description. Lothario had the most to tell. Jarno's liistories 
 were all of one peculiar character : what Wilhelm could disclose we 
 already know. He was apprehensive they might mention his adven- 
 ture with the ^countess ; but it was not hinted at, not even in the 
 remotest manner. 
 
 "It is true," observed Lothario, "there can scarcely any feeling in 
 the world be more agreeable than when the heart, after a pause of 
 indifference, again opens to love for some new object ; yet I would
 
 342 MEISTEB'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 forever have renounced that happiness, had fate been pleased to unite 
 me with Theresa. We are not always youths ; we ought not always 
 to be children. To the man who knows the world, who understands 
 what he should do in it, what lie should hope from it, nothing can be 
 more desirable than meeting with a w'lU' who will everywhere co- 
 operate with him, who will everywhere prepare his way for him ; 
 whose diligence takes up what his must leave ; whose occupation 
 spreads itself on every side, w^liile his must travel forward on its sin- 
 gle path. What a heaven had I figured for myself beside Tlieresa ! 
 Not the heaven of an enthusiastic bliss, but of a sure life on eartli ; 
 order in prosperity, courage in adversity, care for the smallest, and a 
 spirit capable of comprehending and managing the greatest. ! 1 
 saw in her the qualities which, when developed, make such women 
 as we find in history ; whose excellence appears to us far preferable 
 to that of men ; this clearness of view ; this expertncss in all emer- 
 gencies ; this sureness in details, which brings the whole so accurately 
 out, although they never seem to think of it. You maj' well forgive 
 me," added he, and turned to Wilhelm with a smile, "that I forsook 
 Aurelia for Theresa : with the one I could expect a calm and cheerful 
 life, with the other not a happy hour." 
 
 "I will confess," said Wiliielm, "that in coming hither, I had no 
 small anger in my heart against you ; that I proposed to censure with 
 severity your conduct to Aurelia." 
 
 "It was really censurable,'' said Lothario. "I should not have 
 exchanged my friendship for her with the sentiment of love ; I should 
 not, in place of the respect which she deserved, have intruded an 
 attachment she was neither calculated to excite nor to maintain. 
 Alas ! she was not lovely when she loved ; the greatest misery that 
 can befall a woman." 
 
 " Well, it is past ! " said Wilhelm. " We cannot always shun the 
 things we blame ; in spite of us, our feelings and our actions soTue- 
 times strangely swerve from their natural and right direction ; yet 
 there are certain duties which we should never lose sight of. Peace 
 be to the ashes of our friend ! Without censuring ourselves or her, 
 let us, with sympathizing hearts, strew flowers upon her grave. But 
 at the grave in which ihe hapless mother sleeps, let me ask why you 
 acknowledge not the child ; a son whom any father might rejoice in, 
 and whom you appear entirely to overlook ? With your pure and 
 tender nature, how can you altogether cast away the instinct of a 
 parent ? All this while, you have not spent one syllable upon that 
 precious creature, of whose attractions T could say so much." 
 
 " Whom do you speak of V " asked Lothario. " I do not understand 
 you." 
 
 " Of whom but of your son, Aurelia's son, the lovely^hild, to whose 
 good fortune there is nothing wanting but that a tender father should 
 acknowledge and receive him." 
 
 "You nustake, my friend," exclaimed Lothario. "Aurelia never
 
 BOOK VII. CHAPTER VII. 343 
 
 had a sou, at least by me ; I know of no child, or I would with joy 
 acknowledge it ; and even in the present case I will gladly look upon 
 the little creature as a relic of her, and take charge of educating it. 
 But did she ever give you to believe that the boy was hers — was 
 mine '? " 
 
 " I cannot recollect that I ever heard a word from her expressly on 
 the subject ; but we took it up so, and I never for a moment doubted 
 it." 
 
 " I can give you something like a clue to this perplexity," said 
 Jarno. " An old woman, Avhom you must have noticed often, gave 
 Aurelia the child : she accepted it with passion, hoping to alleviate 
 her sorrows by its presence ; and, in truth, it gave her many a com- 
 fortable hovir. " 
 
 The discovery awoke anxieties in Wilhelm ; he thought of his 
 dear Mignon and his beautiful Felix with the liveliest distinctness. 
 He expressed his wish to remove theni both from the state in which 
 they were. 
 
 " We shall soon arrange it," said Lothario. " The little girl may 
 be committed to Theresa ; she cannot be in better hands. As for 
 the boy, I think you should yourself take charge of him : what in us 
 the women leave uncultivated, children cultivate, when we retain 
 them near us." 
 
 " But first, I think," said Jamo, "you will once for all renounce 
 the stage, as you have no talent for it." 
 
 Our friend was struck : he had to curb himself, for Jarno's harsh 
 sentence had not a little wounded his self-love. "If you convince 
 me of that," replied he, forcing a smile, " yon. will do me a service ; 
 though it is but a mournful service to rouse one from a pleasing 
 dream." 
 
 "Without enlarging on the subject," answered Jarno, "I could 
 merely wish you would go and fetch the children. The rest will 
 come in course." 
 
 " I am ready," answered Wilhelm : " I am restless, and curious to 
 see if I can get no farther knowledge of the boy : I long to see the 
 little girl, who has attached herself so strangely to me." 
 
 It was agreed that he should lose no time in setting out. Next 
 day, he had prepared himself ; his horse was saddled : he only 
 waited for Lothario, to take leave of him. AX the dinner hour, they 
 went as usual to table, not waiting for the master of the house. He 
 did not come till late ; and then sat down by them. 
 
 " I could bet,"' said Jarno, " that to-day you have again been mak- 
 ing trial of your tenderness of heart ; you have not been able to 
 withstand the curiosity to see your quondam love." 
 
 " Guessed ! " replied Lothario. 
 
 " Let us hear," said Jarno, "how it went : I long to know." 
 
 " I confess," replied Lothario, "the affair lay nearer my heart 
 than it reasonably ought ; so I formed the resolution of again riding
 
 3-44 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 out, and actually seeing the person, whose renewed young image 
 had affected me with such a pleasing illusion. I alighted at some 
 distance from the house, and sent the horses to a side, that the chil- 
 dren, who were playing at the door, might not be disturbed. I en- 
 tered the house ; by chance she met me just within the threshold ; 
 it was herself ; and I recognized her, notwithstanding the striking 
 change. She had grown stouter, and seemed to be larger : her 
 gracefulness was shaded by a look of staidness ; her vivacity had 
 passed into a calm reflectiveness. Her head, which she once bore so 
 airily and freely, dropped a little ; slight furrows had been traced 
 upon her brow. 
 
 " She cast down her eyes on seeing me ; but no blush announced 
 any inward movement of the heart. I held out my hand to her, she 
 gave me hers : I inquired about her husl)and, he was absent ; about 
 her children, she stepped out and called them ; all came in and 
 gathered round her. Nothing is more charming than to see a mother 
 with a child upon her arm ; nothing is more reverend than a mother 
 among many children. That 1 might say something, I asked the 
 name of the youngest. She desired me to walk in, and see her 
 father: I agreed ; she introduced me to the room, whei'e everything 
 was standing almost just as I liad left it ; and what seemed stranger 
 still, the fair cousin, her living image, was sitting on the very seat 
 behind the spinning-wheel, where I had found my love so often in 
 the self-same form. A little girl, the very figure of her mother, 
 had come after us ; and thus I stood in the most curious scene, be- 
 tween the future and the past, as in a grove of oranges, where, 
 within a little circle, ^(^wers and fruits are living, in successive 
 stages of their growth, beside each other. The cousin went away to 
 fetch us some refresliment ; I gave the woman I had loved so much 
 my hand, and said to her : 'I feel a true joy in seeing you again.' 
 ' You are very good to say so,' answered she ; ' but I also can assure 
 you I feel the highest joy. How often have I wished to see you 
 once more in my life ! I have wished it in moments, which I re- 
 garded as my last.' She said this with a settled voice, without 
 appearance of emotion, with that natural air which of old delighted 
 me so much. The cousin returned ; the father with her ; and I 
 leave you to conceive with what feelings I remained, and with what 
 I came away."
 
 BOOK VIL CHAPTER VIII. 845 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 In his journey to tlie town, our friend was thinking of the lovely 
 women whom he knew, or had heard of : their curious fortunes, 
 which contained so little happiness, were present to him with a sad 
 distinctness. " Ah !" cried he, " jjoor Mariana! What shall I yet 
 learn of thee ? And thou noble Amazon, glorious protecting spirit, 
 to wiiom I owe so much, whom I every wliere expect to meet, and no- 
 where see, in what mournful circumstances may I find thee, shouldst 
 thou again appear before me ! " 
 
 On his arrival in the town, there was not one of his acquaintances 
 at home ; he hastened to the theater ; he supposed they would be 
 rehearsing. Here, however, all was still ; the house seemed empty ; 
 one little door alone was open. Passing through it to the stage, he 
 found Aurelia's ancient serving-maid, employed in sewing linen for a 
 new decoration : there was barely liglit enough to let her work. Fe- 
 lix and Mignon were sitting hy her on the floor : they had a book 
 between them ; and while Mignon read aloud, Felix was repeating all 
 the words, as if he too knew his letters, as if he too could read. 
 
 The children started up and ran to iiim ; he embraced them with 
 the tenderest feelings, and brought them closer to the woman. " Art 
 thou the person, '■■ said he to her, with an earnest voice, " from whom 
 Aurelia received this child?" She looked up from her work, and 
 turned her face to him ; he saw her in full light ; he started back in 
 terror ; it was old Barbara. 
 
 " Where is Mariana ? " cried he. 
 
 "Far from here," replied the crone. 
 
 "And Felix ?" 
 
 " Is the son of that unhappy, and too true and tender-hearted girl ! 
 May you never feel what you have made us suffer ! May the treasure 
 which I now deliver you make you as happy as he made us wretched ! " 
 
 She arose to go away ; Wilhelm held her fast. " I mean not to 
 escape you," said she ; " let me fetch a paper that will make you glad 
 and sorrowful." 
 
 She retired ; and Wilhelm gazed upon the child with a painful joy : 
 he durst not reckon him his own. " He is thine ! " cried Mignon ; 
 " he is thine ! " and pressed the child to Wilhelm's knee. 
 
 Barbara came back, and handed him a letter. " Here are Mariana's 
 last words," said she. 
 
 ' ' She is dead ! " cried he. 
 
 " Dead," said the old woman. " I wish to spare you all reproaches." 
 
 Astonished and confounded, Wilhelm broke up the letter ; but 
 scarcely had he read the first words of it, when a bitter grief took 
 hold of him ; he let the letter fall ; and sank upon a seat. ISIignon
 
 846 MEISTER'IS APPBENTIGESSIP. 
 
 hurried to him, trying to console him. In the meantime, Felix had 
 picked up the letter ; he teased his pla_ymate till she yielded, till she 
 knelt beside him, and read it over. Felix repeated the words, and 
 Wilhelm was compelled to hear them twice. " If this sheet should 
 ever reach thee, then lament thy ill-starred friend. Thy love has 
 caused her death. The boy, whose birth I survive but a few days, is 
 thine : I die faithful to thee, much as appearances may be against 
 me : with thee I lost everything that bound me to life. I die content ; 
 for they have assured me that the child is healthy and will live. 
 Listen to old Barbara ; forgive her : farewell, and forget me not." 
 
 What a painful, and yet to his comfort, half-enigmatic letter ! Its 
 contents pierced through his heart, as the children, stuttering and 
 stammering, pronounced and repeated them. 
 
 " There you have it now ! " said the crone, not waiting till he had 
 recovered. ' ' Thank Heaven that having lost so true a love, you have 
 still so fine a child remaining. Your grief will be unequaled, when 
 you learn how the poor good girl stood faithful to you to the end ; 
 how miserable she became, and what she sacrificed for your sake." 
 
 " Let me drain the cup of sorrow and joy at once ! " cried Wilhelm. 
 " Convince me, even persuade me that she was a good girl, that she 
 deserved respect as well as love ; then leave me to my grief for her ' 
 irreparable loss." 
 
 " It is not yet time," said Barbara ; " I have work to do, and I would 
 not we were seen together. Let it be a secret that Felix is your son ; 
 I should have too much abuse to suffer from the company, for having 
 formerly deceived them. Mignon will not betray us ; she is good 
 and close." 
 
 "I have known it long, and I said nothing," answered Mignon. 
 
 " How is it possible ? " cried Barbara. 
 
 ■■' Whence ? "cried Wilhelm. 
 
 "The spirit told it me." 
 
 ' ' Where ? Where ? " 
 
 " In the vault, when the old man drew his knife, it called to me : 
 ' Bring his father,' and I thought it must be thou." 
 
 " Who called to thee ? " 
 
 " I know not ; in my heart, in my head, I was terrified ; I trembled, 
 I prayed, then it called, and I understood it." 
 
 Wilhelm pressed her to his heart ; recommended Felix to her, and 
 retired. He ha.d not observed till then that she was grown much 
 paler and thinner than when he left her. Madam Melina was the 
 first acquaintance he met : she received him iu the friendliest manner. 
 " 0, that you might find everything among us as you wished ! " ex- 
 claimed she. 
 
 " I doubt it," answered Wilhelm ; " I do not expect it. Confess 
 that they have taken all their measures to dispense with me." 
 
 " Why would you go away ?" replied his friend. 
 
 " We cannot soon enough, convince oui'selves," said he, '• how very
 
 BOOK VII. CHAPTER VIII. 347 
 
 simply we may be dispensed with in the world. What important per- 
 sonages we conceive ourselves to be ! We think that it is we alone that 
 animate the circle that we move in ; that, in our absence, life, nourish- 
 ment and breath will make a general pause ; and, alas, the void which 
 occurs is scarcely remarked, so soon is it filled up again ; nay, it is 
 often but tlie place, if not for something better, at least for soniething 
 more agreeable." 
 
 " And the sorrow.s of our friends we are not to take into account ?" 
 
 " For our friends, too, it is well, when they soon recover their com- 
 posure, when they say each to himself : There where thou art, there 
 where thou remainest, accomplish what thou canst ; be busy, be 
 courteous, and let the present scene delight thee." 
 
 On a narrower inquiry, he found what he had looked for ; the 
 opera had been set up, and was exclusively attracting the attention 
 of the public. His parts had in the meanwhile been distributed be- 
 tween Horatio and Laertes ; and both of them were in the habit of 
 eliciting from the spectators far more liberal applause than he had 
 ever been able to obtain. 
 
 Laertes entered, and Madam Melina cried : " Look you here at this 
 lucky fellow : he is soon to be a capitalist, or Heaven knows what ! " 
 Wilhelm, in embracing him, discovered that his coat was superfine : 
 the rest of his apparel was simple, but of the very best materials. 
 
 " Solve me the riddle ! " cried our friend. 
 
 " You are still in time to learn," replied Laertes, " that my running 
 to and fro is now about to be repaid : that a partner in a large com- 
 mercial house is turning to advantage my acquirements from books 
 of observation, and allowing me a share with him. I would give 
 something could I purchase back my confidence in women ; there is a 
 pretty niece in the house ; and I see well enough that, if I pleased, 
 I might soon be a made man." 
 
 "You have not heard," said Fran Melina, "that a marriage has 
 already taken place among ourselves ? Serlo is actually wedded to 
 tlie fair Ehnira ; her father would not tolerate their secret correspon- 
 dence." 
 
 They talked, in this manner, about many things that had occurred 
 while he was absent : nor was it diflBcult for him to observe, that, 
 according to the present temper and constitution of the company, his 
 dismissal had already taken place. 
 
 He impatiently expected Barbara, who had appointed him to wait 
 for her far in the night. She was to come when all were sleeping ; 
 she required as many preparations as if she had been the youngest 
 maiden gliding in to her beloved. Meanwhile he read, a hundred 
 times, the letter she had given him ; read with unspeakable delight 
 the word /ai^A/Wnn the hand of his darling; with horror the an- 
 nouncement of her death, whose approaches she appeared to view 
 unmoved. 
 
 Midnight was past, when something rustled at the half -opened
 
 348 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 door, and Barbara came in with a little basket. ' ' I am to tell you 
 the story of our woes," said she ; "and I must believe that you will 
 sit unmoved at the recital ; that you are waiting for me but to satisfy 
 your curiosity ; that you will now, as you did formerly, retire within 
 your cold selfishness, while our hearts are breaking. But look you 
 here ! Thus, on that happy evening, did I bring you the bottle of 
 champagne ; thus did I place the three glasses on the table ; and as 
 you then began, with soft nursery tales, to cozen us and lull us asleep, 
 so will I now with stern truths instruct you and ke*ep you waking." 
 
 Wilhelm knew not what to say, when the old woman in fact let go 
 the cork, and filled the three glasses to the bi'im. 
 
 " Drink ! " cried she, having emptied at a draught her foaming 
 glass. " Drink, ere the spirit of it pass ! This third glass shall froth 
 away untasted to the memory of my unhappy Mariana. How red 
 were her lips, when she then drank your health ! Ah, and now for- 
 ever pale and cold !" 
 
 " Sibyl ! Fury ! " cried Wilhelm, springing up and striking the 
 table with his fist, " what evil spirit possesses thee and drives thee? 
 For what dost thou take me, that thou tliinkest the simplest narrative 
 of Mariana's death and sorrows will not harrow me enough, but usest 
 these hellish arts to sharpen my torment '? If thy unsatiable greedi- 
 ness is such, that thou must revel at the funeral table, drink and 
 speak ! I have loathed thee from of old ; and I cannot reckon 
 Mariana guiltless while I even look upon thee, her companion." 
 
 " Softly, mein herr ! " replied the crone ; " you shall not ruffle me. 
 Your debts to us are deep and dark ; the railing of a debtor does not 
 anger one. But you are right ■ the simplest narrative will punish you 
 sufficiently. Hear, then, the struggle and the victory of Mariana 
 striving to continue yours." 
 
 " Continue mine?" cried Wilhelm : "what fable dost thou mean 
 to tell me ? " 
 
 " Interrupt me not," said she ; " hear me, and then give what belief 
 you list : to me it is all one. Did you not, the last night you were 
 with us, find a letter in the room and take it with you ? " 
 
 " I found the letter after I had taken it with me : it was lying in 
 the neckerchief, which, in the warmth of my love, I had seized and 
 carried ofE." 
 
 " What did the sheet contain ? " 
 
 " The expectation of an angry lover to be better treated on the next, 
 than he had been on the preceding evening. And that you kept your 
 word to him, I need not be told ; for I saw him with my own eyes 
 gliding from your house before daybreak." 
 
 "You may have seen him; but what occurred within ; how sadly 
 Mariana passed that night, how fretfully I passed it, you are yet to 
 learn. I will be altogether candid ; I will neitlier hide nor palliate 
 the fact, that I persuaded Mariana to yield to the solicitations of a 
 pertain Norberg ; it was with repugnance that she followed my advice,
 
 BOOK VII. CHAPTER VIII. 349 
 
 nay, that she even heard it. He was rich ; he seemed attached ; I 
 hoped he would be constant. Soon after, he was forced to go upon 
 his journey, and Mariana became acquainted with you. What had I 
 then to abide ! What to liiuder, wliat to undergo ! ' O ! ' cried she 
 often, ' hadst thou spared my youth, ujy innocence but four short 
 weeks, I might have found a worthy object of my love ; I had then 
 been worthy of him, and love might have given, with a quiet con- 
 science, what now I have sold against my will.' She entirely aban- 
 doned herself to* her affection for you : I need not ask if you were 
 happy. Over her understanding I had an unbounded power ; for I 
 knew the means of satisfying all her little inclinations ; but over her 
 heart I had no control ; for slie never sanctioned what I did for her, 
 what I counseled her to do, when her heart said nay. It was only to 
 irresistible necessity that she would yield : but ere long the necessity 
 appeared to her extremely pressing. In the first period of her youth, 
 she had never known want : by a complication of misfortunes her 
 people lost their fortune ; the poor girl had been used to have a num- 
 ber of conveniences ; and upon her young spirit certain principles of 
 honor had been stamped, which made her restless, without much 
 helping her. She had not the smallest skill in worldly matters ; she 
 was innocent in the strictest meaning of the word. She had no idea 
 that one could buy without paying : nothing frightened her more 
 than being in debt ; she always rather liked to give than take. This, 
 and this alone, was what made it possible, that she could be con- 
 strained to give herself away, in order to get rid of various little 
 debts which weighed upon her. ' ' 
 
 " And couldst not thou," cried Wilhelm in an angry tone, " have 
 saved her? " 
 
 " O yes ! " replied the beldame ; " with hunger and need ; with sor- 
 row and privation ; but for this I was not disposed." 
 
 " Abominable, base procuress ! So thou hast sacrificed the hap- 
 le.ss creature ! Offered her up to thy throat, to thy insatiable maw ? " 
 
 " It were better to compose yourself and cease your reviling," said 
 the dame. " If you will revile, go to your high noble houses : there 
 you will meet with many a mother full of anxious cares to find out 
 for some lovely heavenly maiden the most odious of men, provided 
 he be the richest. See the poor creature shivering and faltering 
 before her fate ; and nowhere finding consolation, till some more 
 experienced female lets her iinderstand, that l)y marriage she ac- 
 quires the right, in future, to dispose of her heart and person as she 
 pleases." 
 
 "Peace !" cried Wilhelm : " dost thou think that one crime can 
 be the excuse of another ? To thy story, without farther observa- 
 tions ! " 
 
 " Do you listen then, without blaming ! Mariana became yours 
 against my will. In this adventure at least I have nothing to reproach 
 jnyself with. Norberg returned ; he made haste to visit Mariana ;
 
 350 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 she received him coldly and angrily ; would not even admit him to a 
 kiss. I employed all my art in apologizing for her conduct ; gave 
 him to understand that her confessor had awakened her conscience ; 
 that so long as conscientious scruples lasted one was bound to respect 
 them. 1 at last so far succeeded that he went away ; I promising to 
 do my utmost for him. He was rich and rude ; but there was a touch 
 of goodness in him, and he loved Mariana without limit. He prom- 
 ised to be patient ; and I labored with the greatest ardor not to try 
 him too far. With Mariana I had a stubborn contest ; I persuaded 
 her, nay, I may call it forced her, by the threat of leaving her, to 
 write to Xorberg and invite him for the night. You came, and by 
 chance picked up his answer in the neckerchief. Your presence 
 broke my game. For scarcely were you gone, when she anew began 
 her lamentation ; she swore she would not be unfaithful to you ; she 
 was so passionate, so frantic, that I could not lielj) sincerely pitying 
 her. In the end, I promised, that for this night also, I would pacify 
 her lover, and send him off, under some pretense or other. I en- 
 treated her to go to bed ; but she did not seem to trust me ; she kept 
 on her clothes, and at last fell asleep, without undressing, agitated 
 and exhausted with weeping as she was. 
 
 " Norberg came ; representing in the blackest hues her conscien- 
 tious agonies and her repentance ; I endeavored to retain him ; he 
 wished to see her, and I went into the room to prepare her ; he fol- 
 lowed me, and both of us at once came forward to her bed. She 
 awoke ; sprang wildly up, and tore herself from our arms ; she con- 
 jured and begged, .she entreated, threatened and declared she would 
 not yield. She was improvident enough to let fall some words about 
 the true state of her affections ; which poor Norberg had to under- 
 stand in a spiritual sense. At length he left her, and she locked her 
 door. I kept him long with me and talked with him about her situ- 
 ation ; I told him that she was with child ; that, poor girl, she should 
 be humored. He was so delighted with his fatherhood, with his 
 prospect of a boy, that he granted everything she wished ; he prom- 
 ised rather to set out and travel for a time, than vex his dear, and in- 
 jure her by these internal troubles. With such intentions, at an 
 early hour he glided out ; and if you, mein herr, stood sentry by our 
 house, there was nothing wanting to your happiness, but to have 
 looked into the bosom of your rival, whom you thought so favored 
 and so fortunate, and whose appearance drove you to despair." 
 
 " Art thou speaking truth?" said Wilhelm. 
 
 "True," said the crone, "as I still hope to drive yon to despair. 
 Yes, certainly you xvould despair, if I could lightly paint to you the 
 following morning. ' How cheerfully did she awake ; how kindly 
 did she call me in ; how warmly thank me, how cordially press me 
 to her bosom ! ' Now,' said she, stepping up to her mirror with a 
 smile, 'can I again take pleasure in myself , and in ray looks, since 
 once more I am my owji, am his, my one beloved friend's. Hovy
 
 BOOK VII. CHAPTER VIIL 351 
 
 sweet is it to conquer ! How I thank thee for taking charge of me ; 
 for having turned thy prudence and thy understanding, once, at least, 
 to my advantage ! Stand by me, and devise the means of making 
 me entirely happy ! ' 
 
 " I assented, would not irritate her ; I flattered her hopes, and she 
 caressed me tenderly. If she retired but a moment from the window, 
 I was made to stand and watch ; for you, of course, would pass ; for 
 she at least would see you. Thus did we spend the restless day. 
 At night, at the accustomed hour, we looked for you with certainty. 
 I was alreadv out waiting at the staircase ; I grew weary, and came 
 in to her again. With surprise, I found her in her military dress ; 
 she looked cheerful, and charming beyond what I had ever seen her. 
 ' Do I not deserve,' said she, ' to appear to-night in man's apparel ? 
 Have 1 not struggled bravely ? My dearest shall see me as he saw 
 me for the first time. I will press him as tenderly and with greater 
 freedom to my heart than then ; for am not 1 his much more than 1 
 was then, when a noble resolution had not freed me? But," added 
 she, after pausing for a little, ' I have not yet entirely won him ; 1 
 must still risk the uttermost, in order to be worthy, to be certain of 
 possessing him ; I must disclose the whole to him, discover to him 
 all my state, then leave it to himself to keep or to reject me. This 
 scene I am preparing for my friend, preparing for myself ; and were 
 his feelings capable of casting me away, I should then belong en- 
 tirely to myself ; my punishment would bring me consolation, I 
 would sufEer all that fate could lay upon me. ' 
 
 ' ' With such purposes and hopes, mein herr, this lovely girl 
 expected you : you came not. O ! how shall I describe the state of 
 watching and of hope ? I see thee still before me ; with what love, 
 what heartfelt love, thou spokest of the man, whose cruelty thou 
 hadst not yet experienced ! " 
 
 " Good, dear Barbara ! " cried Wilhelm, springing up, and seizing 
 the old woman by the hand, " we have had enough of mummery and 
 preparation ! Thy indifferent, thy calm, contented tone betrays thee. 
 Give me back my Mariana ! She is living, she is near at hand. Not 
 in vain didst thou choose this late lonely hour to visit me ; not in 
 vain hast thou prepared me by thy most delicious narrative. Where 
 is she ? Where has thou hidden her ? I believe all, I will promise 
 to believe all, so thou but show her to me, so thou give her to my 
 arms. The shadow of her I have seen already : let me clasp her once 
 more to my bosom. I will kneel before her, I ^vill entreat forgiveness ; 
 I will congratulate her upon her victory over herself and thee ; I will 
 bring my Felix to her. Come ! where hast thou concealed her ? Leave 
 Iter, leave ine no longer in uncertainty ! Thy object is attained. 
 Where hast thou hidden her ? Let me light thee with this candle, 
 let me once more see her fair and kindly face ! " 
 
 He had pulled old Barbara from her chair ; she stared at him ; tears 
 started into her eyes, wild pangs of grief took hold of her. " What
 
 352 MEISTEB'8 APpRENtlGESHIP. 
 
 luckless error," cried slie, " leaves you still a moment's liope? Yes, 
 I have hidden her ; but beneath the ground : neither the light of the 
 sun, nor any social taper shall again illuminate her kindly face. Take 
 the boy Felix to her grave, and say to him : ' There lies thy mother, 
 whom thy father doomed unheard.' The heart of Mariana beats no 
 longer with impatience to behold you ; not in a neighboring chamber 
 is she waiting the conclusion of my narrative, or fable ; the dark 
 chamber has received her, to which no bridegroom follows, from 
 which none comes to meet a lover. " 
 
 She cast herself upon the floor beside a chair, and wept bitterly. 
 Wilhelm now, for the first time, felt entirely convinced that Mariana 
 was no more ; his emotions it is easy to conceive. The old woman 
 rose : "I have nothing more to tell you," cried she, and threw a 
 packet on the table. " Here are some writings that v.-ill put your 
 cruelty to shame : peruse these sheets with unwet eyes, if you can." 
 She glided softly out. Our friend had not the heart to open the 
 pocket-book that night ; he had himself presented it to Mariana ; he 
 knew that she had carefully preserved in it every letter he had sent 
 her. Next morning he prevailed upon himself : he untied the ribbon ; 
 little notes came forward written with pencil in his own hand, and 
 recalled to him every situation, from the first day of their graceful 
 acquaintance to the last of their stern separation. In particular, it 
 was not without acute anguish, that he read a small series of billets, 
 which had been addressed to himself, and to which, as he saw from 
 their tenor, Werner had refused admittance. 
 
 "No one of my letters has yet penetrated to thee ; my entreaties, 
 my prayers have not reached thee ; was it thyself that gave these 
 cruel orders "t Shall I never see thee more ? Yet again I attempt it : 
 I entreat thee, come, come ! I ask not to retain thee, if I might 
 but once more press thee to my heart." 
 
 " When I used to sit beside thee, holding thy hands, looking in thy 
 eyes ; and with tlie full heart of love and trust to call thee, ' Dear, 
 dear good Wilhelm ! ' it would please thee so, that I had to repeat it 
 over and over. I repeat it once again : ' Dear, dear good Wilhelm ! 
 Be good as thou wert ; come, and leave me not to perish in my wretch- 
 edness.' " 
 
 ' ' Thou regardest me as guilty : I am so ; but not as thou thinkest. 
 Come, let me have this single comfort to be altogether known to thee ; 
 let what will befall me afterwards." 
 
 ' ' Not for my sake alone, for thy own too, I beg of thee to come. I 
 feel the intolerable pains thou art suffering, whilst thou fiiest from 
 me. Come, that our separation may be less cruel ! Perhaps I was 
 never worthy of thee till this moment, when thou art repelling me 
 to boundless woe."
 
 BOOK VII. CHAPTER VITI. 353 
 
 ''By all that is holy, by all that can touch a human heart, 1 call 
 upon thee ! It involves the safety of a soul, it involves a life, tvvb 
 lives, one of which must ever be dear to thee. This, too, tliy sus- 
 picion will discredit ; yet I will speak it in tlie hour of death : the 
 child which I carry under my heart is thine. Since I began to love 
 thee, no other man has even pressed my hand : that thy love, that 
 thy upriglitness had been the companions of my youth ! " 
 
 "Thou wilt not hear me? I must even be silent. But these letters 
 will not die ; perhaps they will speak to thee, when the sliroud is 
 covering my lips, and the voice of thy repentance cannot reach my 
 ear. Through my weary life, to the last moment, this will be my 
 only comfort : that though I cannot call myself blameless, towards 
 thee I am free from blame." 
 
 Wilhelm could proceed no farther : he resigned himself entirely to 
 his sorrow ; which became still more afflicting when, Laertes entering, 
 he was obliged to hide his'feelings. Laertes showed a purse of d ucats, 
 and began to count and reckon them, assuring Wilhelm that there 
 could be nothing finer in the world than for a man to feel himself in 
 the way to wealth ; that nothing then could trouble or detain him. 
 Wilhelm bethought him of his dream, and smiled ; but at the same 
 time, he remembered, with a shudder, that in his vision Mariana had 
 forsaken him to follow his departed father, and that both of them at 
 last had moved about tlie garden, hovering in the air like spirits. 
 
 Laertes forced him from his meditations ; he brought him to a 
 coffee-house, where, immediately on Wilhelm's entrance, several per- 
 sons gathered round him. They were men who had applauded his 
 performance on the stage ; they expressed their joy at meeting him ; 
 lamenting that, as they had heard, he meant to leave the theater. 
 They spoke so reasonably and kindly of himself and his acting, of his 
 talent and their hopes from it, that Wilhelm, not without emotion, 
 cried at last : " O how infinitely precious would such sympathy have 
 been to me some months ago ! How instructive, how encouraging ! 
 Never had 1 turned my mind so totally from the concerns of the stage, 
 never had I gone so far as to despair of the public." 
 
 "So far as this," said an elderly man, who now stepped forward, 
 " we should never go. The public is large ; true judgment, true feel- 
 ing, are not quite so rare as one believes : only the artist ought not to 
 demand an unconditional approval of his work. Unconditional appro- 
 val is always the least valuable ; conditional you gentlemen are not 
 content with. In life, as in art, 1 knov/ well, a person must take 
 counsel with himself wlien he purposes to do or to produce anything ; 
 but when it is produced or done he must listen with attention to the 
 voices of a number, and with a little practice, out of these many 
 votes he will be able to collect a perfect judgment. The few, who 
 could themselves pronounce one, for the most part hold their peace." 
 
 " This they should not do," said Wilhelm. " I have often heard 
 Meister — 13
 
 3.-,4 MEISTER 'S A PPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 people, who tliemselves kept silence in regard to works of merit, com- 
 plaining and lamenting that silence was kept." 
 
 " To-day, then, we will speak aloud," cried a young man. " You 
 must dine with us, and we will try to pay aff a little of the debt we 
 have owed to you. and sometimes also to our good Aurelia." 
 
 This invitation Wilhelm courteously declined : he went to Frau 
 Melina, whom he wished to speak with on the subject of the children, 
 as he meant to take them from her. 
 
 Old Barbara's secret was not too religiously observed by him. He 
 betrayed himself so soon as he again beheld the lovely Felix, "0 my 
 child!" cried he; "my dear child!" He lifted him, and pressed 
 him to his heart. " Father ! what hast thou brought for me?" cried 
 the child. Mignon looked at both, as if she meant to warn them not 
 to blab. 
 
 "What new phenomenon is this?" said Frau Melina. They got 
 the children sent away ; and Wilhelm, thinking that he did not owe 
 old Barbara the strictest secrecy, disclosed the whole affair to Frau 
 Melina. She viewed him with a smile. " O ! these credulous men ! " 
 exclaimed she. " If anything is lying in their path, it is so easy to 
 impose it on theni ; while in other cases they will neither look to the 
 right nor left, and can value nothing which they have not previoiLsly 
 impressed with the stamp of an arbitrary passion ! " She sighed, 
 against her will. If our friend had not been altogether blind, he 
 must have noticed in her cotiduct an affection for him which had never 
 been entirely subdued. 
 
 He now spoke with her about the children ; how he purposed to 
 keep Felix with him, and to place Mignon in the country. Madam 
 Melina, though sorry at the thought of parting with them, said the 
 plan was good, nay, absolutely necessary. Felix Avas becoming wild 
 with her ; and ilignon seemed to need fresh air and other occupation ; 
 she was sickly, and was not yet recovering. 
 
 " Let it not mislead you," added Frau Melina, " that I have lightly 
 hinted doubts about the boy's lieing really yours. The old woman, 
 it is true, deserves but little confidence ; yet a person who invents 
 untruths for her advantage may likewise speak the truth when truths 
 are profitable to her. Aurelia she had hoodwinked to believe that 
 Felix was Lothario's son ; and it is a property of us women that we 
 cordially like the children of our lovers, though we do not know the 
 mothers, or even hate them from the heart." Felix came jumping 
 in ; she pressed him to her with a tenderness which" was not usual 
 to her. 
 
 Wilhelm hastened home, and sent for Barbara ; who, however, 
 would not undertake to meet him till the twilight. He received her 
 angrily. " There is nothing in the world more shameful,' said he, 
 "than establishing one's self on lies and fables. Already thou hast 
 done much mischief with them ; and now when thy word could decide 
 the fortune of my life, now must I stand dubious, not venturing to
 
 BOOK Vir. CHAPTER VUL ^55 
 
 call the child my owu, though to possess him without scruple would 
 form my highest happiness. I cannot look upon thee, scandalous 
 creature, without hatred and contempt." 
 
 "Your conduct, if I speak with candor," said the old woman, 
 "appears to me intolerable. Even if Felix were not yours, he is 
 the fairest and the loveliest child in nature ; one might purchase him 
 at any price, to have him always near one. Is he not worthy your 
 acceptance ? Do not I deserve for my care, for the labor I have had 
 with him, a little pension for the small remainder of my life? O, 
 you gentlemen who know no want ! It is well for you to talk of 
 truth and honor ; but how the miserable being whose smallest neces- 
 sity is unprovided for, who sees in her perplexities no friend, no help, 
 no counsel : how she is to press through the crowd of selfish men. 
 and to starve in silence, you are seldom at the trouble to consider. 
 Did you read Mariana's letters? They are the letters she wrote to 
 you at that unhappy season. It was in vain that I attempted to ap- 
 proach you to deliver you these sheets ; your savage brother-in-law 
 had so begirt you that craft and cunning were of no avail ; and at 
 last, when he began to threaten me and Mariana with imprisonment, 
 I had then to cease my efforts, and renounce all hope. Does not 
 everything agree with what I told you? And does not Norberg's 
 letter put the story altogether out of doubt ? " 
 
 " What letter ? " asked he. 
 
 " Did you not find it in the pocket-book?" said Barbara. 
 
 " I have not yet read all of them." 
 
 " Give me the pocket-book : on that paper everything depends. 
 Norberg's luckless billet caused this sorrowful perplexity : another 
 from his hands may loose the knots, so far as aught may .still depend 
 upon unraveling them." She took a letter from the book ; Wilhelm 
 recognized that odious writing ; he constrained himself and read : 
 
 "Tell me, girl, how hast thou got such power over me? I would 
 not have believed that a goddess herself could make a sighing lover 
 of me. Instead of hastening towards me with open arms, thou 
 shrankest back from me : one might have taken it for aversion. Is 
 it fair that I should spend the night with old Barbara, sitting on a 
 trunk, and but two doors between me and my pretty Mariana? It is 
 too bad, I tell thee ! I have promised to allow thee time to think ; not 
 to press thee unrelentingly ; I could run mad at every wasted quarter 
 of an hour. Have not I given thee gifts according to my power? 
 Dost thou still doubt of my love? What Avilt thou have? Do but 
 tell me ; thou shall want for nothing. Would the devil had the 
 priest that put such stuff into thy head ! Why didst thou go to such 
 a churl ? There are plenty of them that allow young people some- 
 what. Enough ! I tell thee things mu.st alter ; in two days I must 
 have an answer ; for I am to leave the town ; and if thou become not 
 kind and friendly to me, thou shalt never see me more " 
 
 In this style, "the letter spun itself to great length ; turning, to
 
 356 MEI8TER '8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 Willielm's painful satisfaction, still about tlie same point ; and testi- 
 fying for the truth of the account which he had got from Barbara. 
 A second letter clearly proved, that Mariana in the sequel also had 
 niaintained her purpose ; and it was not without heartfelt grief that 
 out of these and other papers Wilhelm learned the history of the 
 unlucky girl to the very hour of her death. 
 
 Barbara had gradually tamed the rude Norberg, by announcing to 
 him Mariana's death, and leaving him in the belief, that Felix was 
 his son. Once or twice he had sent her money ; which, however, she 
 retained for herself, having talked Aurelia into taking charge of the 
 child. But unhappily this secret source of riches did not long endure. 
 Norberg by a life of riot had impaired his fortune ; and by repeated 
 love affairs his heart was rendered callous to his supposed first-born. 
 
 Probable as all this seemed, beautifully as it all agreed, Wilhelm 
 did not venture to give w'ay to joy. He still appeared to dread a 
 present coming from his evil genius. 
 
 " Your jealous fears," said Barbara, who guessed his mood of mind, 
 " time alone can cure. Look upon the child as a stranger one ; take 
 stricter heed of him on that account ; observe his gifts, his temper, 
 his capacities ; and if you do not, by and by, discover in him the 
 exact resemblance of yourself, your eyes must certainly be bad. Of 
 this I can assure you, were I a man, no one could foist a child on me : 
 but it is a happiness for women, that in these cases men are not so 
 quick of sight." 
 
 These things over, Wilhelm and Barbara parted ; he was to take 
 Felix with him ; she to carry Mignon to Theresa, and afterwards to 
 live in any place she pleased, upon a small annuity which he engaged 
 to settle on her. 
 
 He sent for Mignon, to prepare her for the new arrangement. 
 " Master ! " said she, " keep me with thee : it will do me good and do 
 me ill." 
 
 He told her that, as she was now grown up, there should be some- 
 thing farther done for her instruction. " I am sufficiently instructed," 
 answered she, " to love and grieve." 
 
 He directed her attention to her health, and showed that she re- 
 quired continuous care, and the direction of a good physician. " Why 
 care for me," said she, " when there are so many things to care for? " 
 
 After he had labored greatly to persuade her that he could not take 
 her witli him, that he would conduct her to a place where he might 
 often see her, she appeared as if she had not heard a word of it 
 " Thou wishest not to have me with thee ? " said she. " Perhaps it 
 is better ; send me to the old harper ; the poor man is lonely where 
 he is." 
 
 Wilhelm tried to show her that the old man was in comfortable cir-, 
 cumstances. " Every liour I long for him," replied the child. 
 
 "I did not see," said Wilhelm, "that thou wert so fond of hinji 
 when he was living with us,"
 
 BOOK VII. CHAPTER VIII. 357 
 
 " I was frightened for him, when he was awake ; I could not bear 
 his eyes ; but when he was asleej), I liked so well to sit by him ! I 
 used to chase the flies from him ; I could not look at him enough. 0! 
 he has stood by me in fearful moments ; none knows how much I owe 
 him. Had I known the road, I should have run away to him already." 
 
 Wilhelm set the circumstances in detail before her ; he said, that 
 she had always been a reasonable child, and that on this occasion also 
 she might do as she desired. " Reason is cruel," said she ; " the heart 
 is better ; I will go as thou requirest, only leave me Felix." 
 
 After much discussion, her opinion was not altered ; and Wilhelm 
 at last resolved on giving Barbara both the children, and sending 
 them together to Theresa. This was the easier for him, as he still 
 feared to look upon the lovely Felix as his son. He would take him 
 on his arm, and carry him about : the child delighted to be held be- 
 fore the glass ; Wilhelm also liked, though unavowedly, to hold him 
 there, and seek resemblances between their faces. If for a moment 
 any striking similarity appeared between them, he would press the 
 boy in his arms ; and then at once, affrighted by the thought that he 
 might be mistaken, he would set him down, and let him run away. 
 " O! " cried he, " if I were to appropriate this priceless treasure, and 
 it w^re then to be snatched from me, 1 should be the most unhappy 
 man on earth ! " 
 
 The children had been sent away ; and Wilhelm was about to take 
 a formal leave of the theater, when he felt that in reality he had 
 already taken leave, and needed but to go. Mai-iana was no more ; his 
 two guardian spirits had departed, and his thoughts hied after them. 
 The fair boy hovered like a beautiful uncertain vision in the eyes of 
 his imagination : he saw him, at Theresa's hand, running through 
 the fields and woods, forming his mind and person, in the free air, 
 beside a free and cheerful foster-mother. Theresa had become far 
 dearer to him since he figured her in company with Felix. Even 
 while sitting in the theater, he thought of her with smiles : he was 
 almost in her own case, the stage could now produce no more illusions 
 in him. 
 
 Serlo and Melina were excessively polite to him, when they ob- 
 sers'ed that he was making no pretensions to his former place. A por- 
 tion of the public v.'ished to s^e him act again : this he could not 
 accede to ; nor in the company did any one desire it, saving Frau 
 Melina. 
 
 Of this friend he now took leave ; he was moved at parting with 
 her ; he exclaimed : " Why do we presume to promise anything de- 
 pending on an unknown future? The most slight engagement we 
 have not power to keep ; far less a purpose of importance. I feel 
 ashamed in recollecting what I promised to you all, in that unhappy 
 night, when we were lying plundered, sick aud wounded, crammed 
 into a miserable tavern. How did misfortune elevate my courage ; 
 what a treasure did I think I had found in my good wishes ! And of
 
 358 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 all this not a jot lias taken effect. I leave you as your debtor ; and 
 my comfort is, that our people prized my promise at its actual worth, 
 and never more took notice of it." 
 
 "Be not unjust to yourself," said Frau Melina : "if no one ac- 
 knowledges what you have done for us, I at least will not forget it. 
 Our whole condition had been different, if you had not been with us. 
 But it is with our purposes as with our wishes. They seem no 
 longer what they were, when they have been accomplished, been 
 fulfilled ; and we think we have done, have wished for nothing." 
 
 " You shall not, by your friendly statement," answered Wilhelm, 
 " put my conscience to peace. I shall always look upon myself as 
 in your debt." 
 
 " Nay, perhaps you are so," said Madam Melina ; " but not in the 
 manner you suppose. We reckon it a shame to fail in the fulfillment 
 of a promise we liave uttered with the voice. my friend, a worthy 
 person by his very presence promises us much ! The confidence 
 which he elicits, the inclination he inspires, the hopes which he 
 awakens are unbounded : he is, and he continues, in our debt, 
 although he does not know it. Fare you well ! If our external cir- 
 cumstances have been happily repaired by your direction, there is a 
 void produced by your departure, in my mind, which will not be so 
 easily filled up again." 
 
 Before leaving the city, Wilhelm wrote a copious sheet to Werner. 
 He had before exchanged some letters ; but, not being able to agree, 
 they had at length ceased to write. Now, however, Wilhelm had 
 again approxiaiated to his brother ; he was just about to do what 
 Werner had so earnestly desired. He could say : " I am abandoning 
 the stage ; I mean to join myself with men whose intercourse, in 
 every sense, must lead me to a sure and suitable activity." He in- 
 quired about his property ; and it now seemed strange to him, that 
 he had never for so long a time disturbed himself about it. He 
 knew not that it is the manner of all persons who attach importance 
 to their inward cultivation, altogether to neglect their outward cir- 
 cumstances. This had been Wilhelm's case : he now for the first 
 time seemed to notice, that to work effectively, he stood in need of 
 outward means. He entered on his journey, this time, in a temper 
 altogether different from that of last ; the prospects he had in view 
 were charming ; he hoped to meet with something cheerful by the 
 way.
 
 BOOK VII. CHAPTER IX. 869 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 On returning to Lothario's castle, Willielm found tliat changes 
 had occurred. Jarno met liim with the tidings, that Lothario's uncle 
 being dead, the baron had himself set out to take possession of the 
 heritage. " You come in time," said he, " to help the abb6 and me. 
 Lothario has commissioned us to purchase some extensive properties 
 of land in this quarter : he has long contemplated the bargain, and 
 we have now got cash and credit just in season. The only point 
 which made us hesitate was, that a distant trading house had also 
 views upon the same estates ; at length we have determined to make 
 common cause with it, as otherwise we might outbid each other 
 without need or reason. The trader seems to be a prudent man. 
 At present we are making estimates and calculations : we must also 
 settle economically how the lauds are to be shared, so that each of 
 us may have a fine estate." The papers were submitted to our 
 friend ; the fields, meadows, houses, were inspected ; and though 
 Jarno and the abb6 seemed to understand the matter fully, Wilhelm 
 could not help desiring that Theresa had been with them. 
 
 In these labors several days were spent, and Wilhelm had scarcely 
 time to tell his friends of his adventures and his dubious fatherhood. 
 This incident, to him so interesting, they treated with indifference 
 and levity. 
 
 He had noticed, that they frequently in confidential conversation, 
 while at table or in walks, would suddenly stop short, and give their 
 words another application, thereby showing, at least, that they had 
 on the anvil many things which were concealed from him. He be- 
 thought him of what Lydia had said ; and he put the greater faith 
 in it, as one entire division of the castle had always been inaccessible 
 to him. The way to certain galleries, particularly to the ancient 
 tower, with which externally he was so well acquainted, he had often 
 sought, and hitherto in vain. 
 
 One evening Jarno said to him : " We can now consider you as ours, 
 with such security, that it were unjust if we did not introduce you 
 deeper into our mysteries. It is right that a man, when he first enters 
 upon life, should think highly of himself, should determine to attain 
 many eminent distinctions, should endeavor to make all things possi- 
 ble ; but when his education has proceeded to a certain pitch, it is 
 advantageous for him that he learn to lose himself among a mass of 
 men, that he learn to live for the sake of others, and to forget himself 
 in an activity prescribed by duty. It is then that he first becomes 
 acquainted with himself ; for it is conduct alone that compares us 
 with others. You shall soon see what a curious little world is at your 
 very hand, and how well you are known in it. To-morrow morning 
 before sunrise be dressed and ready."
 
 360 MEISTER'S APPBENTiCESHIP. 
 
 Jarno came at the appointed tour : lie led our friend fhrougli certain 
 known and unknown chambers of the castle, then through several 
 galleries ; till at last they reached a large old door, strongly framed 
 with iron. Jarno knocked ; the door went up a little, so as to admit 
 one person. Jarno introduced our friend, and did not follow him. 
 Wilhelm found himself in an obscure and narrow stand ; all was 
 dark round him ; and when he tried to go a step forward, he found 
 himself hemmed in. A voice not altogether strange to him cried : 
 " Enter ! " and he now discovered that the sides of the place where 
 he was were merely hung with tapestry, through which a feeble light 
 glimmered in to him. " Enter ! " cried the voice again ; he raised the 
 tapestry and entered. 
 
 The hall, in which he now stood, appeared to have at one time been 
 a chapel ; instead of the altar he observed a large table raised some 
 steps above the floor, and covered with a green cloth hanging over it. 
 On the top of this, a drawn curtain seemed as if it liid a picture ; on 
 the sides were spaces beautifully worked, and covered in with fine 
 wire netting, like the shelves of a library ; only here, instead of books, 
 a multitude of rolls had been inserted. Nobody was in the hall, the 
 rising sun shone through the window, right on Wilhelm, and kindly 
 saluted him as he came in. 
 
 " Be seated ! " cried a voice, which seemed to issue from the altar. 
 Wilhelm placed himself in a small arm-chair, which stood against 
 the tapestry where he had entered. There was no seat but this in 
 the room ; Wilhelm had to be content with it, though the morning 
 radiance dazzled him ; the chair stood fast, he could only keep his 
 hand before his eyes. 
 
 But now the curtain, which hung down above the altar, went asun- 
 der with a gentle rustling ; and showed, within a picture frame, a 
 dark empty aperture. A man stepped forward at it, in a common dress, 
 saluted the astonished looker-on, and said to him : " Do you not 
 recognize me? Among the many things which you would like to 
 know, do you feel no curiosity to learn where your grandfather's col- 
 lection of pictures and statues are at present ? Have you forgotten 
 the painting which you once so much delighted in ? Where, think 
 you, is the sick king's son now languishing?" Wilhelm, without 
 difficulty, recognized the stranger, whom, in that important night, he 
 had conversed with at the inn. ' ' Perhaps," continued his interrogator, 
 "we should now be less at variance in regard to destiny and char- 
 acter." 
 
 Wilhelm was about to answer, when the curtain quickly flew 
 together. " Strange ! " said Wilhelm to himself ; " can chance occur- 
 rences have a connection? Is what we call destiny but chance? 
 Where in my grandfather's collection ; and why am I remembered of 
 it in these solemn moments ? " 
 
 He had not leisure to pursue his thoughts : tlie curtain once more 
 parted ; and a person stood before him, wlioiu hv ijistantly perceived
 
 BOOK VII. CHAPTER IX. 361 
 
 to be the country clergyman, that had attended him and his com- 
 panions on that pleasure sail of theirs. He had a resemblance to the 
 &bh6, though he seemed to be a different person. With a cheerful 
 countenance, in a tone of dignity, he ^aid : " To guard from error, is 
 not the instructor's duty ; but to lead the erring pupil ; nay, to let 
 him quaff his error in deep satiating draughts, this is the instructor's 
 wisdom. Tie who only tastes his error will long dwell with it, will take 
 delight in it as in a singular felicity ; while he who drains it to the 
 dregs will, if he be not crazy, find it out." The curtain closed again, 
 and Wilhelm had a little time to think. " What error can he mean," 
 said he within himself, " but the error which has clung to me through 
 my whole life ; that I sought for cultivation where it was not to be 
 found ; that I fancied I could form a talent in me, while without the 
 smallest gift for it." 
 
 The curtain dashed asunder faster than before ; an officer advanced, 
 and said in passing : " Learn to know the men who may be trusted ! " 
 The curtain closed ; and Wilhelm did not long consider, till he found 
 this otiicer to be the one who had embraced him in the count's park, 
 and had caused his taking Jarno for a crimp. How that stranger 
 had come hither, who he was, were riddles to our friend. "If so 
 many men," cried he, "took interest in thee, knew thy way of life, 
 and how it should be carried on, why did they not conduct thee with 
 greater strictness, with greater seriousness ? Why did they favor 
 thy silly sports, instead of drawing thee away from them ?" 
 
 " Dispute not with us ! " cried a voice : " Thou art saved, thou art 
 on the way to the goal. None of thy follies wilt thou repent ; none 
 wilt thou wish to repeat ; no luckier destiny can be allotted to a 
 man." The curtain went asunder ; and in full armor stood the old 
 king of Denmark in the space. "I am thy father's spirit," said the 
 figure, " and I depart in comfort, since my wishes for thee are accom- 
 plished, in a higher sense than I myself contemplated. Steep regions 
 cannot be surmounted save by winding paths ; on the plain, straight 
 roads conduct from place to place. Farewell, and think of me, when 
 thou enjoyest what I have provided for thee." 
 
 Wilhelm was exceedingly amazed and struck : he thought it was 
 his father's voice ; and yet in truth it was not : the present and the 
 past alike confounded and perplexed him. 
 
 He had not meditated long, when the abbe came to view, and placed 
 himself behind the green table. " Come hither ! " cried he to his mar- 
 veling friend. He went, and mounted up the steps. On the green 
 cloth lay a little roll. "Here is your indenture," said the abb6 ; 
 " take it to heart ; it is of weighty import." W^ilhelm lifted, opened 
 it, and read : 
 
 rNDENTXJKE. 
 
 Art is long, life short, judgment diflBcult, opportunity transient. 
 To act is easy, to think is hard ; to act according to our thought is
 
 362 M SISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 troublesome. Every beginning is cheerful ; the threshold is the place 
 of expectation. The boy stands astonished, his impressions guide 
 him ; he learns sportfully, seriousness comes on him by surprise. 
 Imitation is born with us ; what should be imitated is not easy to 
 discover. The excellent is rarely found, more rarely valued. The 
 height charms us, the steps to it do not : with the summit in our 
 eye, we love to walk along the plain. It is but a part of art that can 
 be taught ; the artist needs it all. Who knows it half, speaks much, 
 and is always wrong ; who knows it wholly, inclines to act, and speaks 
 seldom or late. The former have no secrets and no force : the instruc- 
 tion they can give is like baked bread, savory and satisfying for a 
 single day ; but flour cannot be sown, and seed-corn ought not to be 
 ground. Words are good, but they are not the best. The best is not 
 to be explained by words. The spirit in which we act is the highest 
 matter. Action can be understood and again represented by the spirit 
 alone. No one knows what he is doing, while he acts aright ; but of 
 what is wrong we are always conscious. Whoever works with sym- 
 bols only, is a pedant, a hypocrite, or a bungler. There are many 
 such, and they like to be together. Their babbling detains the scholar : 
 their obstinate mediocrity vexes even the best. The instruction which 
 the true artist gives us, opens the mind ; for where words fail him, 
 deeds speak. The true scholar learns from the known to unfold the 
 unknown, and approaches more and more to being a master. 
 
 "Enough!" cried the abb6 ; "the rest in due time. Now, look 
 round you among these cases." 
 
 Wilhelm went, and red the titles of the rolls. With astonishment 
 he found "Lothario's Apprenticeship," " Jarno's Apprenticeship," 
 and his own " Apprenticeship " placed there, with many others whose 
 names he did not know. 
 
 " May I hope to cast a look into these rolls?" 
 
 " In this chamber there is now nothing hid from you." 
 
 " May I put a question ? " 
 
 " Without scruple ; and you may expect a positive reply, if it con- 
 cerns a matter which is nearest your heart, and ought to be so." 
 
 "Good then ! Ye marvelous sages, whose sight has pierced so 
 many secrets, can you tell me whether Felix is in truth my son?" 
 
 " Hail to you for this question ! " cried the abb6, clapping hands for 
 joy. " Felix is your son 1 By the holiest that lies hid among us, I 
 swear to you, Felix is your son ; nor, in our opinion, was the mother 
 that is gone unworthy of you. Receive the lovely child from our 
 hands ; turn round, and venture to be happy." 
 
 Wilhelm heard a noise behind him : he turned round, and saw a 
 child's face peeping archly through the tapestry at the end of the 
 room ; it was Felix. The boy playfully hid himself so soon as he 
 was noticed. ' ' Come forward ! " cried the abb^ ; he came running ; 
 his father rushed towards him, took him in his arms, and pressed 
 him to his heart, " Yes I I feel it/' cried he, "thou art mine 1 What
 
 BOOK VIl. CHAPTER IX. 863 
 
 ft gift of Heaven have I to thank my friends for ! Whence, or how, 
 comest thou, my child, at this important moment ? " 
 
 "Ask not," said the abM. "Hail to thee, young man I Thy 
 apprenticeship is done ; Nature has pronouiiced thee free."
 
 364 MEISTER'a APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 BOOK VIII. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Felix skipped into the garden ; Wilhelm followed him with rap- 
 ture ; a lovely morning was displaying everything with fresh charms ; 
 our friend enjoyed the most delightful moment. Felix was new in 
 the free and lordly world ; nor did his father know much more than 
 he about the objects, concerning which the little creature was repeat- 
 edly and unweariedly inquiring. At last they joined the gardener, 
 who had to tell them the names and uses of a multitude of plants. 
 Wilhelm looked on Nature as with unscajed eyes ; the child's new- 
 fangled curiosity first made him sensible how weak an interest he 
 himself had taken in external things, how small his actual knowledge 
 was. Not till this day, the happiest of his life, did his own cultiva- 
 tion seemed to have commenced : he felt the necessity of learning, 
 being called upon to teach. 
 
 Jarno and the abb6 did not show themselves again till evening, 
 when they brought a guest along witli them. Wilhelm viewed the 
 stranger with amazement ; he could scarce believe his eyes ; it was 
 Werner, wlio, likewise, for a moment, hesitated in his recognition. 
 They embraced each other tenderly ; neither of them could conceal 
 that he thought the other greatly altered. Werner declared that his 
 friend was taller, stronger, straighter ; that he had become more 
 polished in his looks and carriage. " Something of his old true- 
 heartedness, I miss, however," added he. "That, too, will soon 
 appear again," said Wilhelm, "when we have recovered from our 
 first astonishment." 
 
 The impression Werner made upon his friend was by no means so 
 favorable. The honest man seemed rather to have retrograded than 
 advanced. He was much leaner than of old ; his peaked face 
 appeared to have grown sharper, his nose longer ; brow and crown 
 had lost their hair ; the voice clear, eager, shrill, the hollow breast 
 and stooping shoulders, the sallow cheeks, announced indubitably 
 that a melancholic drudge was there. 
 
 Wilhelm was discreet enough to speak but sparingly of these great 
 changes ; while the other, on the contrary, gave free course to his 
 friendly joy. "In truth," cried he, "if thou hast spent thy time 
 badly, and, as I suppose, gained nothing, it must be owned thou art 
 grown a piece of manhood such as cannot fail to turn to somewhat. Do 
 not waste and squander me this too again ; with such a figure thou
 
 BOOK tin. CHAPTER t. 365 
 
 fehalt biiy some rich and beautiful heiress." " I see," said Wilhelnl, 
 smiling, " tliou wilt not belie thy character. Scarcely hast thou 
 found thy brother after long absence, when thou lookest on hiin as a 
 piece of goods, a thing to speculate on, and make profit by." 
 
 Jarno and the abb^ did not seem at all astonished at this recogni- 
 tion ; they allowed the two to expatiate on the past and present as 
 they pleased. Werner walked round and round his friend ; turned 
 him to this side and to that ; so as almost to embarrass him. " No !" 
 cried he, " such a thing as this I never met with, and yet I know that 
 I am not mistaken. Thy eyes are deeper, thy brow is broader ; thy 
 nose has grown finer, thy mouth more lovely. Do but look at him, 
 how he stands :.how it all suits and fits together ! Well, idling is the 
 way to grow. But for me, poor devil," said he, looking at himself 
 in the glass, " if I had not all this while been making store of money, 
 it were over with me altogether." 
 
 Werner liad got Wilhelnr s last letter ; the distant trading house. 
 In common with which Lothario meant to purchase the estates, was 
 theirs. On that business Werner had come hither, not dreaming that 
 he should meet with Wilhelm on the way. The baron's lawyer 
 came ; the papers were produced ; Werner reckoned the conditions 
 reasonable. " If you mean well," said he, "as you seem to do, with 
 this young man, you will of yourselves take care that our part be not 
 abridged : it shall be at my friend's ojition whether he will take the 
 land, and lay out a portion of his fortune on it." Jarno and the abbe 
 protested that they did not need his admonition. Scarcely had the 
 business been discussed in general terms, when Werner signified a 
 longing for a game at omber ; to which, in consequence, Jarno and 
 the abbe set themselves along with him. He was now grown so ac- 
 customed to it, that he could not pass the evening without cards. 
 
 The two friends, after supper, being left alone, began to talk, and 
 question one another very keenly, touching everything they wished 
 to have communicated. Wilhelm spoke in high tenns of his situa- 
 tion, of his happiness in being received among such men. Werner 
 shook his head and said : "Well, I see, we should believe nothing 
 that we do not see with our eyes. More than one obliging fi'iend 
 assured me thou wert living with a wild young nobleman, wert sup- 
 plying him with actresses, helping him to waste his money ; that, by 
 thy means, he had quarreled with every one of his relations." " For 
 my own sake, and the sake of these worthy gentlemen, I should be 
 vexed at this," said Wilhelm, "had not my theatrical experience 
 made me tolerant to every sort of calumny. How can men judge 
 rightly of our actions, which appear but singly or in fragments to 
 them ; of which they see the smallest portion ; while good and bad 
 take place in secret, and for most part nothing comes to light but an 
 indifferent show 't Are not the actors and actresses in a play set up ■ 
 on boards before them ; lamps lit on every side ; the whole transac- 
 tion is comprised within three hours ; yet scarcely one of them knows 
 rightly what to make of it."
 
 366 MEISTER 'S A PPR ENTICE8HIP. 
 
 Our friend proceeded to inquire about liis family, his young com- 
 rades, liis native town. Werner told, with great haste, of changes 
 that had taken place, of clianges that were still in progress. " The 
 women in our house," said he, "are satisfied and happy; we are 
 never short of money. One half of their time they spend in dress- 
 ing ; the other in showing themselves when dressed. They are as 
 domestic as a reasonable man could wish. My boys are growing up 
 to prudent youths. I already, as in vision, see them sitting, writing, 
 reckoning, running, trading, trucking : each oi them, as soon as pos- 
 sible shall have a bu.siness of his own. As to what concerns our 
 fortune, thou v.ilt be contented with the state of it. When we have 
 got these lands in order, thou must come directly home with me ; for 
 it now appears as if thou too couldst mingle with some skill in worldly 
 undertakings. Thanks to thy new friends, who have set thee on the 
 proper patli. I am certainly a fool : I never knew till now how well 
 I liked thee, now Avhen I cannot gape and gaze at thee enough, so well 
 and handsome thou lookest. Thpt is in truth another form than the 
 portrait which was sent thy sister ; which occasioned such disputes 
 at home. Both mother and daughter thought young master very 
 handsome indeed, with his slack collar, half-open breast, large ruff, 
 sleek pendant hair, round hat, short waistcoat, and wide pantaloons ; 
 while I, on the other liand, maintained that the costume was scarce 
 two finger-breadths from that of Harlequin. But now thou lookest 
 like a man ; only the queue is wanting, in which I beg of thee to 
 bind thy hair ; else some time or other, they will seize thee as a Jew, 
 and demand toll and tribute of thee." 
 
 Felix in the meantime had come into the room ; and as they did 
 not mind him, lie had laid himself upon the sofa, and was fallen 
 asleep. "What urchin is this'?"' said Werner. Wilhelm at that 
 moment had not the heart to tell the truth ; nor did he wish to lay a 
 still ambiguous narrative before a man, who was by nature anything 
 but credulous. 
 
 The whole party now proceeded to the lands, to view them, and 
 conclude the bargain. Wilhelm would not part with Felix from his 
 side ; for the boy's sake, he rejoiced exceedingly in the intended pur- 
 chase. The longing of the child for cherries and berries, the season 
 for which was at hand, brought to his mind the days of his own 
 youth, and the manifold duties of a father, to prepare, to procure, and 
 to maintain for his family a constant series of enjoyments. With 
 what interest he viewed the nurseries and the buildings ! How zeal- 
 ously he contemplated repairing what had been neglected, restoring 
 what had fallen ! He no longer looked upon the world with the eyes 
 of a bird of passage ; an edifice he did not now consider as a grove 
 that is hastily put together, and that withers ere one leaves it. Every- 
 thing that he proposed commencing was to be completed for his boy ; 
 everything that he erected was to last for several generations. In 
 this sense, his apprenticeship was ended ; with the feeling of a father,
 
 BOOK Vni. CHAPTER I. 367 
 
 he had acquired all the virtues of a citizen. He felt this, and nothing 
 could exceed his joy. " O needless strictness of morality," exclaimed 
 he, " while Nature in her own kindly manner trains xis to all that we 
 require to he! O strange demand of civil society, which first per- 
 plexes and misleads us, then asks of us more than Nature herself ! 
 Woe to every sort of culture which destroys the most effectual means 
 of all true culture, and directs us to the end, instead of rendering us 
 happy on the way ! " 
 
 Much as he had already seen in his life, it seemed as if the obser- 
 vation of the child afforded him his first clear view of human nature. 
 The theater, the world had appeared before him, only as a multitude 
 of thrown dice, every one of which upon its upper surface indicates 
 a greater or a smaller value ; and which, when reckoned up together, 
 make a sum. But here in the person of the boy, as we might say, a 
 single die was laid before him, on the many sides of which the worth 
 and worthlessness of man's nature were legibly engrav<!d. 
 
 The child's desire to have distinctions made in his ideas grew 
 stronger every day. Having learned that things had names, he wished 
 to hear the name of everything ; supposing that there could be noth- 
 ing which his father did not know, he often teased him with his 
 questions, and caused him to inquire concerning objects, which but 
 for this he would have passed without notice. Our innate tendency 
 to pry into the origin and end of« things was likewise soon developed 
 in the boy. When he asked whence came the wind, and whither 
 went the flame, his father for the first time truly felt the limitation 
 of his own powers ; and wished to understand how far man may ven- 
 ture with his thoughts, and what things he may hope ever to give 
 account of to himself or others. The anger of the child, when he 
 saw injustice done to any living thing, was extremely grateful to the 
 father, as the symptom of a generous heart. Felix once struck 
 fiercely at the cook for cutting up some pigeons. The fine impression 
 this produced on Wilhelm was, indeed, ere long disturbed, when he 
 found the boy unmercifully tearing sparrows in pieces, and beating 
 frogs to death. This trait reminded him of many men, who appear 
 so scrupulouslj' just when without passion, and witnessing the pro- 
 ceedings of other men. 
 
 The pleasant feeling, that the boy was producing so fine and whole- 
 some an influence on his being, was in a short time troubled for a 
 moment, when our friend observed that in truth the boy was educat- 
 ing him more than he the boy. The child's conduct he was not 
 qualified to correct ; its mind he could not guide in any path but a 
 spontaneous one. The evil habits which Aurelia had so violently 
 striven against, had all, as it seemed, on her death, assumed their 
 ancient privileges. Felix still never shut the door behind him, be 
 still would not eat from a plate ; and no greater pleasure could befall 
 him than when he happened to be overlooked, and could take his bit 
 immediately from the dish, or let the full glass stand, and drink out
 
 368 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 of the bottle. He delighted also very much when he could set him- 
 self in a corner with a book, and say witli a serious air : " I must 
 study this scholar stuff!" though he neither knew his letters nor 
 would learn them. 
 
 Thus, when Wilhelm thought how little he had done for Felix, 
 how little he was capable of doing, there arose at times a restlessness 
 within him, which appeared to counterbalance all his happiness. 
 "Are we men, then," said he, "so selfishly formed that we cannot 
 possibly take proper charge of any one without us ? Am I not acting 
 with the boy exactly as I did with Mignon ? I drew the dear child to- 
 wards me ; her presence gave me pleasure ; yet I cruelly neglected 
 her. What did I do for her education, which I longed for with 
 such earnestness ? Nothing ! I left her to herself, and to all the 
 accidents to which in a society of coarse people she could be ex- 
 posed. And now for this boy, who seemed so interesting before he 
 could be precious to thee, has thy heart ever bid thee do the smallest 
 service to liiui ? It is time that thou shouldst cease to waste thy 
 own years and those of others : awake, and think what thou 
 shouldst do for thyself, and for this good being, whom love and 
 nature have so firmly bound to thee." 
 
 This soliloquy was but an introduction to admit that he had 
 already thought, and cared, and tried, and chosen : he could delay 
 no longer to confess it. After sorrow, often and in vain repeated, 
 for the loss of Mariana, he distinctly felt that he must seek a mother 
 for the boy ; and also that he could not find one equal to Theresa. 
 With this gifted lady he was thoroughly acquainted. Such a spouse 
 and helpmate seemed the only one to trust one's self to, in such cir- 
 cumstances. Her generous affection for Lothario did not make him 
 hesitate. By a singular destiny, they two had been forever parted ; 
 Theresa looked upon herself as free ; she had talked of marrying, 
 with indifference indeed, but as of a matter understood. 
 
 After long deliberation, he determined on communicating to her 
 everything he knew about himself. She was to be made acquainted 
 with him, as he already w^as with her. He accordingly began to 
 take a survey of his history ; but it seemed to him so empty of 
 events, and in general so little to his credit, that he more than once 
 was on the point of giving up his purpose. At last, however, he 
 resolved on asking Jarno for the roll of his apprenticeship, which he 
 had noticed lying in the tower : Jarno said it was the very time for 
 that, and Wilhelm consequently got it. 
 
 It is a feeling of awe and fear, which seizes on a man of noble 
 mind, when conscious that his character is just about to be exhibited 
 before him. Every transition is a crisis ; and a crisis presupposes 
 sickness. With what reluctance do we look into the glass after 
 rising from a sick-bed ! The recovery we feel : the effects of the 
 past disease are all we see. Wilhelm had, however, been sufficiently 
 prepared ; events had already spoken loudly to him, and his friends
 
 BOOK VIII. CHAPTER 11. 369 
 
 had not spared liim. If he opened the roll of parchment with some 
 hurry, he grew calmer and calmer the farther he read. He found 
 his life delineated with large sharp strokes ; neither unconnected 
 incidents, nor narrow sentiments perplexed his view ; the most 
 bland and general reflections taught without shaming him. For the 
 first time, his own figure was presented to him ; not indeed, as in a 
 mirror, a second self ; but as in a portrait, another self : we do not, 
 it is true, recognize ourselves in every feature ; but we are delighted 
 that a thinking spirit has so understood us, that such gifts have 
 been employed in representing us, tliat an image of what we were 
 exists, and may endure when we ourselves are gone. 
 
 Wilhelm next employed himself in setting forth the history of his 
 life, for the perusal of Theresa ; all the circumstances of it were 
 recalled to memory by what he had been reading ; he almost felt 
 ashamed that, to her great virtues, he had nothing to oppose which 
 indicated a judicious activity. He had been minute in his written 
 narrative ; he was brief in the letter which he sent along with it. 
 He solicited her friendship, her love, if it were possible ; he offered 
 her his hand, and entreated for a quick decision. 
 
 After some internal contest whether it was proper to impart this 
 weighty business to his friends, to Jarno and the abbe, he determined 
 not to do so. His resolution was so firm, the business of such im- 
 portance, that he could not have submitted it to the decision of the 
 wisest and best of men. He was even cautious enough to carry his 
 letter with his own hand to the nearest post. From his parchment 
 roll it appeared with certainty enough that, in very many actions of 
 his life, in which he had conceived himself to be proceeding freely 
 and in secret, he had been observed, nay, guided ; and perhaps the 
 thought of this had given him an unpleasant feeling ; and he wished 
 at least in speaking to Theresa's heart, to speak purely from the 
 heart ; to owe his fate to her decision and determination only. Hence 
 in this solemn point he scrupled not to give his overseers the slip. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Scarcely was the letter gone, when Lothario returned. Every 
 one was gladdened at the prospect of so speedily concluding the 
 important business which they had in hand : Wilhelm waited with 
 anxiety to see how all these many threads were to be loosed, or tied 
 anew, and how his own future state was to be settled. Lothario gave 
 a kindly salutation to them all : he was quite recovered and serene ; 
 he had the air of one who knows what he should do, and who finds 
 no hindrance in the way of doing it. 
 
 His cordial greeting Wilhelm could scarcely repay. "This," he
 
 370 MEISTEB'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 had to own within himself, " is the friend, the lover, bridegroom of 
 Theresa ; in his stead thou art presuming to intrude. Dost thou think 
 it possible for thee to banish, to obliterate an impression such as this ? " 
 Had the letter not been sent away, perhaps he would not have ventured 
 sending it at all. But happily the die was cast ; it might be Theresa 
 had already taken up her resolution, and only distance shrouded with 
 its veil a happy termination. The winning or the losing must soon be 
 decided. By such considerations he endeavoi'ed to compose himself ; 
 and yet the movements of his heart were almost feverish. He could 
 give but little attention to the weighty business, on which in some 
 degree the fate of his whole property depended. In passionate 
 moments, how trivial do we reckon all that is al^out us, all that 
 belongs to us ! 
 
 Happily for him, Lothario treated the afEair with magnanimity, and 
 Werner with an air of ease. The latter, in his violent desire of gain, 
 experienced a lively pleasure in contemplating the fine estate which 
 was to be his friend's. Lothario, for his part, seemed to be revolving 
 very different thoughts. " I cannot take such pleasure in the acquire- 
 ment of property," said he, " as in the justness of it." 
 
 " And in the name of Heaven," cried Werner, " is not this of ours 
 acquired justly 't " 
 
 " Not altogether," said Lothario. 
 
 " Are we not giving hard cash for it?" 
 
 "Doubtless," replied Lothario ; "and most probably you will con- 
 sider what I am now hinting at as nothing but a whim. No property 
 appears to me quite just, quite free of flaw, except it contribute to the 
 state its due proportion." 
 
 "How ! " said Werner. "You would rather that our lands, which 
 we have purchased free from burden, had been taxable?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Lothario, " in a suitable degree. It is only by this 
 equality with every other kind of property, that our possession of it 
 can be made secure. In these new .times, when so many old ideas are 
 tottering, what is the grand reason why the peasant reckons the pos- 
 session of the noble less equitable than his own ? Simply that the 
 noble is not burdened, and lies a burden on him." 
 
 " But how would the interest of our capital agree with that ? " said 
 Werner. 
 
 "Perfectly well," returned the other, "if the state, for a regular 
 and fair contribution, Avoukl relieve us from the feudal hocus-pocus ; 
 would allow us to proceed with our lands according to our pleasure ; 
 so that we were not compelled to retain such masses of them undi- 
 vided, so that we might part them more equally among our children, 
 whom we might thus introduce to vigorous and free activity, instead 
 of leaving them the poor inheritance of these our limited and limiting 
 privileges, to enjoy which we must ever be invoking the ghosts of 
 our forefathers. How much happier were men and women in our 
 rank of life, if they might with unbidden eyes look round them,
 
 BOOK Vni. CHAPTER. II 371 
 
 and elevate \>y their selection, here a worthy maiden, there a worthy 
 youth, regarding nothing farther than their own ideas of happiness iii 
 marriage ! The state would have more, perhaps better citizens, and 
 would not so often be distressed for want of heads and hands. " 
 
 "I can assure you honestly," said Werner, " I never in my life 
 thought about the state: my taxes, tolls and tributes I have' paid 
 because it was the custom." 
 
 "Still, however," said Lothario, " I hope to make a worthy patriot 
 of you. As he alone is a good fatlier, who at table serves his chil- 
 dren first, so is he alone a good citizen, who, before all other outlays, 
 discliarges what he owes the state." 
 
 By such general reflections their special business was accelerated 
 rather than retarded. It was nearly over, when Lothario said to 
 Wilhelm : "1 must send you to a place where you are needed more 
 than here. My sister bids me beg of you to go to her as soon as pos- 
 sible. Poor Mignon seems to be decaying more and more ; and it is 
 thought your presence might allay the malady. Besides telling me in 
 person, my sister has dispatched this note after me : so that you per- 
 ceive she reckons it a pressing case." Lothario handed him a billet. 
 Wilhelm, wlio had listened in extreme perplexity, at once discovered 
 in these hasty pencil-strokes the hand of the countess, and knew 
 not what to answer. 
 
 " Take Felix with you," said Lothario : " the little ones will cheer 
 each other. You must be upon the road to-morrow morning early ; 
 my sister's coach, in which my people traveled hither, is still here : I 
 will give you horses half the way ; the rest you post. A prosperous 
 journey to you ! Make many compliments from me, when you arrive ; 
 tell my sister I shall soon be back, and that she must prepare for 
 guests. Our grand-uncle's friend, the Marchese Cipriani, is on his way 
 to visit us ; he hoped to find the old man still in life ; they meant to 
 entertain each other with their common love of art, and the recollec- 
 tion of their early intimacy. The marcliese, much younger than my 
 uncle, owed to him the greater part of his accomplishments. We 
 must exert all our endeavors to fill up in some measure the void which 
 is awaiting him ; and a larger party is the readiest means." 
 
 Lothario went with the abbe to his chamber ; Jarno had ridden off 
 before ; Wilhelm hastened to his room. There was none to whom he 
 could unbosom his distress ; none by whose assistance he could turn 
 aside the project, which he viewed with so much fear. The little 
 servant came, requesting him to pack : they were to put the luggage 
 on to-night, meaning to set out by daybreak. Wilhelm knew not 
 what to do ; at length he cried : " Well, 1 shall leave this house at 
 any rate ; on the road I may consider what is to be done ; at all 
 events I will halt in the middle of my journey ; I can send a message 
 hither, I can write what I recoil from saying ; then let come of it 
 what will." In spite of this resolution he spent a sleepless night : a 
 look on Felix resting so serenely was the only thing that gave him
 
 872 MElSfER'S APPREI^rTlGESBlP. 
 
 any solace. " O ! who knows," cried he, " what trials are hefore me ; 
 who knows how sharply bygone errors will yet punish me ; how 
 often good and reasonable pi'ojects for the future shall miscarry ! 
 But this treasure, which I call my own, continue it to me, thou ex- 
 orable or inexorable fate ! Were it possible tliat this best part of 
 myself were taken from me, that this heart could be torn from my 
 heart, then farewell sense and understanding ; farewell all care and 
 foresight ; vanish thou tendency to perseverance ! All that distin- 
 guishes us from the beasts, pass away ! And if it is not lawful for a 
 man to end his heavy days by the act of his own hand, may speedy 
 madness banish consciousness, before death, which destroys it 'for- 
 ever, shall bring on his own long night." 
 
 He seized the boy in his arms, kissed him, clasped him and wetted 
 him with plenteous tears. 
 
 The cliild awoke : his clear eye, his friendly look, touched his 
 father to the inmost heart. " What a scene awaits me," cried he, 
 " when I shall present thee to the beautiful unhappy countess, when 
 she shall press thee to her bosom, which thy father has so deeply 
 injured ! Ought I not to fear that she will push thee from her with 
 a cry, when the touch of thee renews her real oi fancied pain ! " The 
 coachman did not leave him time for farther thought or hesitation ; 
 but forced him into the carriage before day. Wilhelm wrapped his 
 Felix well : the morning was cold but clear ; the child, for the first 
 time in his life, saw the sun rise. His astonishment ot the first fiery 
 glance of the luminary, at the growing power of the light ; his plea- 
 sure and his strange remarks rejoiced the father, and afforded him a 
 glimpse into the heart of the boy, before which, as over a clear and 
 silent sea, the sun was mounting and hovering. 
 
 In a little town the coachman halted ; unyoked his horses, and rode 
 back. Wilhelm took possession of a room, and asked himself seriously 
 whether he would stay or proceed. Thus irresolute he ventured to 
 take out the little note, which hitherto he had never had the heart to 
 look on : it contained the following words : " Send thy young friend 
 very soon ; Mignon for the last two days has been growing rather 
 worse. Sad as the occasion is, 1 shall be happy to get acquainted with 
 him." 
 
 The concluding words Wilhelm, at the first glance, had not seen. 
 He was terrified on reading them, and instantly determined not to go. 
 "How!" cried he, "Lothario, knowing what occurred between us, 
 has not told her who I am ? She is not, with a settled mind, expecting 
 an acquaintance, whom she would rather not see : she expects a stran- 
 ger ; and I enter ! I see her shudder and start back, I see her blush I 
 No, it is impossible for me to encounter such a scene ! " Just then his 
 liorses were led out and yoked : Wilhelm was determined to take off his 
 luggage and remain. He felt extremely agitated. Hearing the maid 
 running upstairs to tell him, as he thought, that all was ready, he 
 began on the spur of the instant to devise some pretext for continu-
 
 MOK nil. CHAPTER IL 373 
 
 ing ; his eyes were fixed, without attention, on the letter which he 
 still held in his hand. " In the name of Heaven ! " cried he, " what 
 is this ? It is not the hand of the countess, it is the hand of the 
 Amazon ! " 
 
 The maid came in, requested him to walk down, and took Felix 
 with her. " Is it possible," exclaimed he, " is it true ? What shall 
 I do ? Remain, and wait, and certify myself? Or hasten, hasten and 
 rush into an explanation V Thou art on the way to her, and thou canst 
 loiter ! This night thou mayest see her, and thou wilt voluntarily 
 lock thyself in prison ! It is her hand ; yes, it is hers ! This hand 
 calls thee ; her coach is yoked to lead thee to her ! Xow the 
 riddle is explained : Lothario has two sisters ; my relation to the one 
 he knows ; how much I owe to the otlier is unknown to him. Nor is 
 she aware that the wounded stroller, who stands indebted to her for 
 his health, if not his life, has been received with such unmerited 
 attention in her brother's house." 
 
 Felix, who was swinging to and fro in the coach, cried up to him : 
 " Father ! Come, come ! Look at the pretty clouds, the pretty 
 colors ! "Yes, I come," cried Wilhelm, springing downstairs ; "and 
 all the glories of the sky, which thou, good creature, so admirest, 
 are as nothing to the moment which I look for." 
 
 Sitting in the coach, he recalled all the circumstances of the matter 
 to his memory. " So this is the Natalia, then, Theresa's friend ! 
 What a discovery; what hopes, what prospects? How strange 
 that the fear of speaking about the one sister should have alto- 
 gether concealed from me the existence of the other ! " With 
 what joy he looked on Felix ! He anticipated for the child, as for 
 himself, the best reception. 
 
 Evening at last came on ; the sun had set ; the road was not the 
 best ; the postilion drove slowly ; Felix had fallen asleep, and new 
 cares and doubts arose in the bosom of our friend. " What delusion, 
 what fantasies are these that rule thee ! " said he to himself. " An 
 uncertain similarity of handwriting has at once assui-ed thee, and 
 given thee matter for the strangest castles in the air." He again 
 brought out the paper ; in the departing light he again imagined that 
 he recognized the hand of the countess ; his eyes could no longer find 
 in the parts what his heart had at once shown him in the whole. 
 "These horses, then, are running with thee to a scene of terror! 
 Who knows but in a few short hours they may have to bring thee 
 back again ? And if thou shouldst meet with her alone ! But per- 
 haps her husband will be there ; perhaps the baroness ? How altered 
 will she be ? Shall I not fail, and sink to the earth, at sight of her?" 
 
 Yet a faint hope that it might be his Amazon, would often gleam 
 through these gloomy thoughts. It was now night ; the carriage 
 rolled into a courtyard, and halted. A servant with a link stepped 
 out of a stately portal, and came down the broad steps to the carriage 
 door. " You liave been long looked for," said he, opening it. Wilhelm
 
 374 MEISTEB'8 APPBENTIGmJBtP. 
 
 dismounted ; took tlie sleeping Felix in liis arms ; tlie first servant 
 called to a second, who was standing in tlie door with a light : " Show 
 the gentleman up to the baroness. " 
 
 Quick as lightning, it went through Wilhflm's soul : " What a 
 happiness ! Be it by accident or of purpose, the baroness is here ! I 
 shall see her first ; apparently the countess has retired to rest. Ye 
 good spirits, grant that the moment of deepest perplexity may pass 
 tolerably over ! " 
 
 He entered the house ; he found himself in the most earnest, and, 
 as he almost felt, the holiest place that he had ever trod. A pendant 
 dazzling luster threw its light upon a broad and softly rising flight of 
 stairs, which lay before him, and which parted into two divisions at 
 a turn above. Slarble statues and busts were standing upon pedestals 
 and arranged in niches : some of them seemed known to him. The 
 impressions of our childhood abide with us, even in their minutest 
 traces. He recognized a Muse, which had formerly belonged to his 
 grandfather ; not indeed by its form or worth, but by an arm which 
 had been restored, and some new-inserted pieces of the robe. He felt 
 as if a fairy tale had turned out to be true. The child was heavy in 
 liis arms ; he lingered on the stairs, and knelt down, as if to place 
 him more conveniently. His real want, however, was to get a mo- 
 ment's breathing time. He could scarcely raise himself again. The 
 servant, who was carrying the light, offered to take Felix ; but Wil- 
 helm could not part with him. He had now mounted to an ante- 
 chamber ; in which, to his still greater astonishment, he observed the 
 well-known picture of the sick king's son hanging on the wall. He 
 had scarcely time to cast a look on it ; the servant hurried him along 
 through two rooms into a cabinet. Here, behind a light screen, which 
 threw a shadow on her, sat a young lady reading. "O that it were 
 she ! " said he within himself at this decisive moment. He set down 
 the boy, who seemed to be awakening ; he meant to approach the 
 lady ; but the child sank together drunk with sleep ; the lady rose 
 and came to him. It was the Amazon ! Unable to restrain himself, 
 he fell upon his knee, and cried : " It is she ! " He seized her hand 
 and kissed it with unbounded rapture. The child was lying on the 
 carpet between them, sleeping softlj-. 
 
 Felix was carried to the sofa : Natalia sat down beside him ; she 
 directed Wilhelm to the chair which was standing nearest them. 
 She proposed to order some refreshments ; these our friend declined ; 
 he was altogther occupied convincing himself that it was she, closely 
 examining her features, shaded by the screen, and accurately recog- 
 nizing them. She told him of Mignon's sickness, in general terms ; 
 that the poor child was gradually consuming under the influence of 
 a few deep feelings ; that, with her extreme excitability, and her 
 endeavoring to hide it, her little heart often suffered violent and 
 dangerous pains ; that on any unexpected agitation of her mind, this 
 primary organ of life would suddenly stop, and no trace of the vital
 
 BOOK nil. CHAPTER 11. 375 
 
 movement could be felt in the good child's bosom That when such 
 an agonizing cramp was past, the force of nature would again express 
 itself in strong pulses, and now torment the child by its excess, as she 
 had before suffered by its defect. 
 
 Wilhelm recollected one spasmodic scene of that description, and 
 Natalia referred him to the doctor, who would speak with him at large 
 on the affair, and explain more circumstantially why he, the friend 
 and benefactor of the child, had been at present sent for. "One 
 curious change," Natalia added, " you will find in her : she now wears 
 women's clothes, to which she had once such an aversion," 
 
 " How did you succeed in this ? " said Wilhelm. 
 
 " If it was indeed a thing to-be desired," said she, " we owe it all 
 to chance. Hear how it happened. Perhaps you are aware that I 
 have constantly about me a number of little girls, whose opening 
 minds I endeavor, as they grow in strength, to train to what is good 
 and right. " From my mouth they learn nothing but what I myself 
 regard as true : yet I cannot and would not hinder them from gather- 
 ing, among other people, many fragments of the common prejudices 
 and errors which are current in the world. If they inquire of me 
 about them, I attempt, as far as possible, to join these alien and in- 
 trusive notions to some just one, and thus to render them, if not use- 
 ful, at least harmless. Some time ago, my girls had heard among the 
 peasants' children many tales of angels, of Kuecht Rupert and such 
 shadowy characters, who, they understood, appeared at certain times 
 in person, to give presents to good children, and to punish naughty 
 ones. They had an idea that these strange visitants were people in 
 disguise : in this I confirmed them ; and without entering into 
 explanations, I determined on the first opportunity, to let them see a 
 spectacle of that sort. It chanced that the birthday of two twin- 
 sisters, whose behavior had been always very good, was near ; I 
 promised that, on this occasion, the little present they had so well 
 deserved should be delivered to them by an angel. They were on the 
 stretch of curiosity regarding this phenomenon. I had chosen Mignon 
 for the part ; and accordingly, at the appointed day, I had her suit- 
 ably equipped in a long light snow-white dress. She was, of course, 
 provided with a golden girdle round her waist, and a golden fillet on 
 her hair. I at first proposed to omit the wings ; but the young 
 ladies who were decking her, insisted on a pair of large golden 
 pinions, in preparing whicli they meant to show their highest art. 
 Thus did the strange apparition, with a lily in the one hand, and a 
 little basket in the other, glide in among the girls : she surprised even 
 me. ' There comes the angel ! ' said I. The children all shrank back ; 
 at last they cried : ' It is Mignon ! ' yet they durst not venture to 
 approach the wondrous figure. 
 
 " ' Here are your gifts,' said she, putting down the basket. They 
 gathered around her, they viewed, they felt, they questioned her. 
 
 " ' Art thou an angel ? ' asked one of them,
 
 376 MEISTER '8 A PPBENTICESHIP. 
 
 " ' I wish I were,' said Mignon 
 " ' Why dost thou bear a lily ? ' 
 
 '"So pure and so open should my heart be ; then were I happy.' 
 " ' What wings are these? Let us see them ! ' 
 " ' They represent far finer ones, which are not yet unfolded.' 
 " And thus significantly did she answer all their other childlike, 
 innocent inquiries. The little party having satisfied their curiosity, 
 and the impression of the show beginning to abate, we were for |)ro- 
 ceeding to undress the little angel. This, however, she resisted : she 
 took her cithern ; she seated herself here, on this high writiug-table, 
 and sang a little song with touching grace : 
 
 • Such let me seem till such I be ; 
 
 Take not my snow-white dress away 1 
 Soon from this dusk of earth I flee 
 Up to Lhe glittering lands of day. 
 
 There first a little space I rest, 
 
 Then wake so glad, to scene so kind ; 
 
 In earthly robes no longer drest, 
 
 This band, this girdle left behind. 
 
 And those calm shining sons of morn 
 
 They ask not who is maid or boy ; 
 No robes, no garments there are worn, 
 
 Our body pure from sin's alloy. 
 
 Through little life not much I toil'd, 
 
 Yet anguish long this heart has wrung, 
 
 Untimely woe my blossom spoiPd ; 
 Make me again forever young ! 
 
 " I immediately determined upon leaving lier the dress," proceeded 
 Natalia ; "and procuring her some others of a similar kind. These 
 she now wears ; and in them, I think, her form has quite a different 
 expression." 
 
 As it was already late, Natalia let the stranger go ; he parted from 
 her not without anxiety. " Is she married or not? " asked he within 
 himself. He had been afraid, at every rustling, that the door would 
 open, and her husband enter. The serving-man, who showed him to 
 his room, went off, before our friend had mustered resolution to 
 inquire regarding this. His unrest held him long awake ; he kept 
 comparing the figure of the Amazon with the figure of his new ac- 
 quaintance. The two would not combine ; the former he had, as it 
 were, himself fashioned ; the latter seemed as if it would almost new- 
 fashion him.
 
 BOOK Vin. CHAPTEB UL 877 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Next morning, while all was yet quiet, he went about viewing the 
 house. It was the purest, finest, stateliest piece of architecture he 
 had ever seen. "True art," cried he, "is like good company ; it 
 constrains us in the most delightful way to recognize the measure 
 by which, and up to which, our inward nature has been shaped by 
 culture." The impression which the busts and statues of his grand- 
 father made upon him was exceedingly agreeable. With a longing 
 mind, he hastened to the picture of the sick king's son ; and he still 
 felt it to be charming and affecting. The servant opened to him 
 various other chambers ; he found a library, a museum, a cabinet of 
 philosophical instruments. In much of this he could not help per- 
 ceiving his extreme ignorance, lleanwhile Felix had awakened, and 
 came running after him. The thought of how and when he might 
 receive Theresa's letter gave him pain ; he dreaded seeing Mignon, 
 and in some degree Natalia. How unlike his present state was his 
 state at the moment when he sealed the letter to Theresa, and with a 
 glad heart wholly gave himself to that noble being ! 
 
 Natalia sent for him to breakfast. lie proceeded to a room, where 
 several tidy little girls, all apparently below ten years, were occupied 
 in furnishing a table, while another of the same appearance brought 
 in various sorts of beverage 
 
 Wilhelm cast his eye upon a picture, hung above the sofa ; he 
 could not but recognize in it the portrait of Natalia, little as the exe- 
 cution satisfied him. Natalia entered, and the likeness seemed en- 
 tirely to vanish. To his comfort, it was painted with the cross of a 
 religious order on its breast ; and he now saw another such upon 
 Natalia's. 
 
 " I have just been looking at the portrait here," said he ; "and it 
 seems surprising that a painter could have been at once so true and 
 so false. The picture resembles you in general extremely well, and 
 yet it neither has your features nor your character." 
 
 "It is rather matter of surprise," replied Natalia, " that the like- 
 ness is so good. It is not' my picture ; but the picture of an aunt, 
 whom I resembled even in childhood, though she was then advanced 
 in years. It was painted when her age was just about what mine is : 
 at the first glance every one imagines it is meant for me. You should 
 have been acquainted with that excellent lady. I owe her much. A 
 very weak state of health, perhaps too much employment with her 
 own thoughts, and withal a moral and religious scrupulosity, pre- 
 vented her from being to the world what, in other circumstances, she 
 might have become. She was a light that shone but on a few friends, 
 and on me especially."
 
 378 MEI8TER 'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 "Can it be possible," said VVilhelm, after thinking for a moment, 
 -while so many circumstances seemed to correspond so well, " can it 
 be possible that the fair and noble saint, whose meek confessions I 
 had liberty to study, was your aunt ? " 
 
 " You read the manuscript '? " inquired Natalia. 
 " Yes," said Wilhelm, " with the greatest sympathy, and not with- 
 out effect upon my life. What most impressed me in this paper was, 
 if I may term it so, the purity of being, not only of the writer her- 
 self, but of all that lay round her ; that self-dependence of nature, 
 that impossibility of admitting anything into her soul which would 
 not harmonize with its own noble lovely tone." 
 
 "You are more tolerant to this fine spirit," said Natalia, "nay, I 
 will say more just, than many other men, to whom tlie narrative has 
 been imparted. Every cultivated person knows how he has had to 
 strive against a certain rudeness both in himself and others ; how 
 much his culture costs him ; how apt he is, after all, in certain cases, 
 to recollect himself alone, forgetting what he owes to others. How 
 often has a worthy person to reproach himself for having failed to 
 act with proper delicacy ! And wlien a fair nature too delicately, too 
 conscientiously cultivates, nay, if you will, overcultivates itself, there 
 seems to be no toleration, no indulgence for it in the world. Yet such 
 persons are, without us, what the ideal of perfection is within us : 
 models not for being imitated, but for being aimed at. We laugh at 
 the cleanliness of the Dutch ; but would our friend Theresa be 
 what she is, if some such notion were not always present to her in her 
 housekeeping '? " 
 
 " I see before me then," cried Wilhelm, " in Theresa's friend, the 
 same Natalia whom her amiable relative was so attached to ; the 
 Natalia, who from her youth was so affectionate, so sympathizing and 
 helpful ! It was only out of such a line that such a being could pro- 
 ceed. What a prospect opens before me, while I at once survey your 
 ancestors, and all the circle you belong to ! " 
 
 " Yes," replied Natalia, " in a certain sense, the story of my aunt 
 would give you the faithf ulest picture of us. Her love to me, indeed, 
 has made her praise the little girl too much : in speaking of a child, 
 we never speak of what is present, but of what we hope for." 
 
 Wilhelm, in the meantime, was rapidly reflecting that Lothario's 
 parentage and early youth were now likewise known to him. The 
 fair countess, too, appeared before him in her childhood, with the 
 aunt's pearls about her neck : he himself had been near those pearls, 
 when her soft lovely lips bent down to meet his own. These beauti- 
 ful remembrances he sought to drive away by other thoughts. He 
 ran through the characters to whom that manuscript had introduced 
 him. " I am here then," cried he, " in your worthy uncle's house ! 
 It is no house, it is a temple, and you are the priestess, nay, the genius 
 of it : I shall recollect for life my impression yesternight, when I 
 entei-ed, and the old figures of my earliest days were again before
 
 BOOK VIII. CHAPTER III. 379 
 
 me. I thought of the compassionate marble statues in Mignon's 
 song ; but these figures had not to lament about me ; they looked 
 upon me with a lofty earnestness, they brought my first years into 
 immediate contact with the present moment. That ancient treasure 
 of our family, the joy of my grandfather, 1 find here placed among so 
 many other noble works of art ; and myself, whom nature made the 
 darling of the good old man, my unworthy self I find here also, 
 heavens ! in what society, in what connections ! " 
 
 The girls had by degrees gone out to mind their little occupations. 
 Natalia, left alone with Wilhelm, asked some farther explanation of 
 his last remark. The discovery, that a number of her finest paint- 
 ings and statues had at one time been the property of Wil helm's 
 grandfather, did not fail to give a cheerful stimulus to their discourse. 
 As by that manuscript he had got ac(fuainted with Natalia's hotise, so 
 now he found himself, too, as it were, in his inheritance. At length 
 he asked for Mignon. His friend desired him to have patience till 
 the doctor, who had been called out into the neighborhood, returned. 
 It is easy to suppose that the doctor was the same little active man, 
 whom we already know, and who was spoken of in the " Confessions 
 of a Fair Saint." 
 
 " Since I am now," said Wilhelm, " in the middle of your family 
 circle, I presume the abbe, whom that paper mentions, is the strange, 
 inexplicable person, whom, after the most singular series of events, 
 I met with in your brother's house ? Perhaps you can give some 
 more accurate conception of him ! " 
 
 " Of the abb6 there might much be said," replied Natalia ; " what 
 I know best about him is the influence which he exerted on our edu- 
 cation. He was, for a time, at least, convinced that education ought 
 in every case to be adapted to the inclinations ; his present views of 
 it I know not. He maintained that with man the first and last con- 
 sideration was activity, and that we could not act on anything without 
 the proper gifts for it, without an instinct impelling us to it. ' You 
 admit,' he used to say, 'that' poets must be born such; you admit 
 this with regard to all professors of the fine arts ; because you must 
 admit it, because those workings of human nature cannot very plausi- 
 bly be aped. But if we consider well, we shall find that every capa- 
 bility, however sliglit, is born with us : that there is no vague general 
 capability in men. It is our ambiguous, dissipating education that 
 makes men uncertain : it awakens wishes, when it should be animat- 
 ing tendencies ; instead of forwarding our real capacities, it turns 
 our efforts towards objects wliich are frequently discordant with the 
 mind that aims at them. I augur better of a child, a youth who is 
 wandering astray on a path of his own, than of many who are walk- 
 ing aright upon paths which are not theirs. If the former, either by 
 themselves, or by the guidance of others, ever find the right path, 
 that is to say, the path which suits their nature, they will never 
 leave it ; while the latter are in danger every moment of shakinj^-
 
 380 MELSTEU'8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 off a foreign yoke, and abandoning themselves to unrestricted 
 license. ' " 
 
 " It is strange," said Wilhelm, " that this same extraordinary man 
 should likewise have taken charge of me ; should, as it seems, have, 
 in his own fashion, if not led, at least confirmed me in my errors, for 
 a time. How he will answer to the charge of having joined with 
 others, as it were, to make game of me, I wait patiently to see." 
 
 "Of this whim, if it is one," said Natalia, " I have little reason to 
 complain ; of all the family I answered best with it. Indeed, I see 
 not how Lothario could have got a finer breeding ; but for my sister, 
 the countess, some other treatment might have suited better ; per- 
 haps they should have studied to infuse more earnestness and strength 
 into her nature. As to brotlier Friedrich, what is to become of him 
 cannot be conjectured : he will fall a sacrifice, I fear, to this experi- 
 ment in pedagogy. " 
 
 " You liave another brother, then 1" cried Wilhelm. 
 
 "Yes," replied Natalia ; "and a light, merry youth he is ; and as 
 they have not hindered him from roaming up and down the world, I 
 know not what the wild, dissipated bo}- will turn to. It is a great 
 while since I saw him. The only thing which calms my fears is, 
 that the abbe, and the whole society about my brother, are receiving 
 constant notice where he is and what he does." 
 
 Wilhelm was about to ask Natalia her opinion more precisely on the 
 abba's paradoxes, as well,as to solicit information about that mysteri- 
 ous society ; but the physician entering changed their conversation. 
 After the first compliments of welcome, he began to speak of Mignon. 
 
 Natalia then took Felix by the hand, saying she would lead the 
 child to Mignon and prepare her for the entrance of her friend. 
 
 The doctor, now alone with Wilhelm, thus proceeded: "I have 
 wondrous things to tell you ; such as you are not anticipating. Nata- 
 lia has retired that we might speak with greater liberty of certain 
 matters, which, althougli I first learned them by her means, her 
 presence would prevent us from discussing freely. The strange tem- 
 per of the child seems to consist almost exclusively of deep longing ; 
 the desire of revisiting her native land, and the desire for you, my 
 friend, ai'e, I might almost say, tiie only earthly things about her. 
 Both these feelings do but grasp towards an immeasurable distance, 
 both objects lie before her unattainable. The neighborhood of Milan 
 seems to be her home : in very early childhood she was kidnapped 
 from her parents by a company of rope-dancers. A more distinct 
 account we cannot get from her, partly because she was then too 
 young to recollect the names of men and places, but especially because 
 she lias made an oath to tell no living mortal her abode and parentage. 
 For the strolling party, who came up with her when she had lost her 
 way, and to whom she so accurately described her dwelling, with 
 such piercing entreaties to conduct her home, but carried her along 
 ^th them the faster ; and at night in tlw^ir quarters, when they
 
 BOOK VIII. CHAPTER III . 381 
 
 thought the child was sleeping, joked about their precious capture, 
 declaring she would never find the way home again. On this, a hor- 
 rid desperation fell upon the miserable creature ; but at last the Holy 
 Virgin rose before her eyes, and promised that she would assist her. 
 The child then swore within herself a sacred oath, that she would 
 henceforth trust no human creature, would disclose her history to no 
 one, but live and die in hojie of ininiediale aid from Heaven. Even 
 this, which I am telling you, Natalia did not learn expressly from 
 her ; but gathered it from detached expressions, songs and childlike 
 inadvertencies, betraying what they meant to hide." 
 
 Wilhelm called to memory many a song and word of this dear 
 child, which he could now explain. He earnestly requested the phy- 
 sician to keep from him none of the confessions or mysterious poetry 
 of this peculiar being. 
 
 " Prepare yourself," said the physician, " for a strange confession ; 
 for a story with which you, without remembering it, have much to 
 do ; and which, as I greatly fear, has been decisive for the death and 
 life of this good creature." 
 
 " Let me hear," said Wilhelm ; " my impatience is unbounded." 
 
 " Do you recollect a secret nightly visit from a female," said the 
 doctor, " after your appearance in the character of Hamlet '? " 
 
 " Yes, I recollect it well," cried Wilhelm blushing, " but I did not 
 look to be reminded of it at the present moment." 
 
 " Do you know who it was ? " 
 
 " I do not ! You frighten me ! In the name of Heaven, not Mig- 
 non surely? Who was it? Tell me, pray." 
 
 " I know it not myself." 
 
 "Not Mignon, then?" 
 
 " No, certainly not Mignon ; but Mignon was intending at the time 
 to glide in to you ; and saw, with horror, from a corner where she 
 lay concealed, a rival get before her." 
 
 "A rival ! " cried our friend ; " speak on, you more and more con- 
 found me." 
 
 " Be thankful," said the doctor, " that you can arrive at the result 
 so soon through means of me. Natalia and 1, with but a distant in- 
 terest in the matter, had distress enough to undergo, before we could 
 thus far discover the perplexed condition of the poor dear creature, 
 whom we wished to help. By some wanton speeches of Philina and 
 the other girls, by a certain song which she had heard Philina sing, 
 the child's attention had been roused ; she longed to pass a night be- 
 side the man she loved, without conceiving anything to be implied in 
 this beyond a happy and confiding rest. A love for you, my friend, 
 was already keen and powerful in her little heart ; in your arms, the 
 child had found repose from many a sorrow ; she now desired this 
 happiness in all its fullness At one time she proposed to ask you for 
 it in a friendly manner ; but a secret horror always held her back. 
 At last, that merry night find the excitement of abundant wine in-
 
 382 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 spired her with the courage to attempt the adveuture, and glide iu to 
 you on that occasion. Accordingly she ran before, to hide herself in 
 your apartment, which was standing open ; but just when she had 
 reached the top of the stairs, having heard a rustling, she concealed 
 herself, and saw a female in a white dress slip into your chamber. 
 You yourself arrived soon after, and she heard you push the large 
 bolt. 
 
 "Mignon's agony was now unutterable ; all the violent feelings of 
 a passionate jealousy mingled themselves with the unacknowledged 
 longing of obscure desire, and seized her half-developed nature with 
 tremendous force. Her heart, which had hitherto beaten violently 
 with eagerness and expectation, now at once began to falter and stop ; 
 it pressed her bosom like a heap of lead ; she could not draw her 
 breath, she knew not what to do; she heard the sound of the old 
 man's harp, hastened to the garret where he was, and passed the 
 night at his feet in horrible convulsions." 
 
 The physician jsaused a moment ; then, as Wilhelm still kept 
 silence, he proceeded : " Natalia told me, nothing in her life had so 
 alarmed and touched her as the state of Mignon while relating this : 
 indeed, our noble friend accused herself of cruelty in having, by her 
 questions and management, drawn this confession from her, and re- 
 newed by recollection the violent sorrows of the poor little girl. 
 
 " ' The dear creature,' said Natalia, ' had scarcely come so far with 
 her recital, or rather with her answers to my questions, when she 
 sank all at once before me on the ground, and with her hand on her 
 bosom piteously moaned that the pain of that excruciating night was 
 come back. She twisted herself like a worm upon the floor ; and I 
 had to summon all my composure, that 1 might remember and apply 
 such means of remedy for mind and body as were known to me.' " 
 
 " It is a painful predicament you put me in," cried Wilhelm, " by 
 impressing me so vividly with the feeling of my manifold injustice 
 towards this unhappy and beloved being, at the very moment when I 
 am again to meet her. If she is to see me, why do you deprive me 
 of the courage to appear with freedom V And shall I confess it to 
 you ? Since her mind is so affected, I perceive not how my presence 
 can be advantageous to her. If you, as a physician, are persuaded 
 that this double longing had so undermined her being as to threaten 
 death, why should I renew her sorrows by my presence, and perhaps 
 accelerate her end ?" 
 
 " My friend," replied the doctor, " where we cannot cure, it is our 
 duty to alleviate ; and how much the presence of a loved object 
 tends to take from the imagination its destructive power, how it 
 changes an impetuous longing to a peaceful looking, I could prove 
 by the most convincing instances. Everything in measure and with 
 purpose I For, in other cases, this same presence may rekindle an 
 affection nigh extinguished. But do you go and see the child ; be- 
 have to her with kindness, and let us wait the consequence."
 
 BOOK VIII. CHAPTER ni. 383 
 
 Natalia, at this moment coming back, bade VVilhelm follow her 
 to Miguon. " She appears to feel quite happy with the boy," ob- 
 served Natalia, " and I hope she will receive our friend with" mild- 
 ness."' Wilhelm followed, not without reluctance: he was deeply 
 moved by what he had been hearing ; he feared a stormy scene of 
 passion. It wa.s altogether the reverse that happened on his entrance. 
 
 Mignon, dressed in long white women's clothes, with her brown 
 copious hair partly knotted, partly clustering out in locks, was sitting 
 with the boy Felix on her lap, and pressing him against her heart. 
 She looked like a departed spirit, he like life itself ; it seemed as if 
 heaven and earth were clasping one another. She held out her hand 
 to Wilhelm with a smile, and said : " I thank thee for bringing back 
 the child to me : they had taken him away, I know not how, and since 
 then I could not live. So long as my heart needs anything on earth, 
 thy Felix shall fill up the void." 
 
 The quietness which Mignon had displayed on meeting with her 
 friend, produced no little satisfaction in the party. "The doctor 
 signified that Wilhelm should go frequently and see her ; that in 
 body as in mind she should be kept as equable as possible. He him- 
 self departed, promising to return soon. 
 
 Wilhelm could now observe Natalia in her own circle : one would 
 have desired nothing better than to live beside her. Her presence 
 had the purest influence on the girls, and young ladies of various 
 ages, who resided with her in the house, or came to pay her visits 
 from the neighborhood. 
 
 " The progress of your life," said Wilhelm once to her, " must 
 always have been very even ; your aunt's delineation of you in your 
 childhood seems, if I mistake not, still to fit. It is easy to see, that 
 you never were entangled in your path. You have never been com- 
 pelled to retrograde." 
 
 " This I owe to my uncle and the abbe," said Natalia, " who so 
 well discriminated my prevailing turn of mind. From my youth 
 upwards, I can recollect no livelier feeling than that I was con- 
 stantly observing people's wants, and had an irresistible desire to 
 make them up. The child that had not learned to stand on its feet, 
 the old man that could no longer stand on his ; the longing of a rich 
 family for children, the inability of a poor one to maintain their 
 children ; each silent wish for some particular species of employ- 
 ment, the impulse towards any talent, the natural gifts for many 
 little necessary arts of life, were sure to strike me : my eye seemed 
 formed by nature for detecting them. I saw such things, where no 
 one had directed my attention ; I seemed born for seeing them alone. 
 The charms of inanimate nature, to which so many persons are ex- 
 ceedingly susceptible, had no effect upon me ; the charms of art, if 
 possible, had less, ily most delightful occupation was and is, when 
 a deficiency, a want appeared before me anywhere, to set about de- 
 vising a supply, a remedy, a help for it.
 
 384 MEiSTEB'S APPBENTIOESHIP. 
 
 " If I saw a poor creature in rags, the superfluous clotlies I Lad 
 noticed hanging in the wardrobes of my friends immediately occurred 
 to me ; if I saw children wasting for want of care, I was sure to recol- 
 lect some lady I had found oppressed with tedium amid riches and 
 conveniences ; if I saw too many persons crammed into a narrow 
 space, I thought they should be lodged in the spacious chambers of 
 palaces and vacant houses. This mode of viewing things was alto- 
 gether natural, without the least reflection ; so that in my childhood 
 I often made the strangest work of it, and more than once embar- 
 rassed people by my singular proposals. Another of my peculiarities 
 was this, I did not learn till late, and after many efforts, to consider 
 money as a means of satisfying wants : my benefits were all dis- 
 tributed in kind, and my simplicity, I know, was frequently the cause 
 of laughter. None but the abb6 seemed to understand me ; he met 
 me everywhere ; he made me acqiiainied with myself, with these 
 wishes, these tendencies, and taught me how to satisfy them suitably." 
 
 "Do you, then," said Wilhelm, "in the education of your little 
 female world employ the method of these extraordinary men ? Do 
 you too leave every mind to form itself ? Do you too leave your girls 
 to search and wander, to pursue delusions, happily to reach the goal, 
 or miserably lose themselves in error ? " 
 
 " No ! " replied Natalia : " such treatment as that would altogether 
 contradict my notions. To my mind, he who does not help us at the 
 needful moment, never helps ; he who does not counsel at the need- 
 ful moment, never counsels. I also reckon it essential that we lay 
 down and continually impress on children certain laws, to operate as 
 a kind of hold in life. Nay, I could almost venture to assert that it 
 is better to be wrong by rule, than to be wrong with nothing but the 
 fitful caprices of our dispositions to impel us hither and thither : and 
 in my way of viewing men, there always seems to be a void in their 
 nature, which cannot be filled up, except by some decisive and dis- 
 tinctly settled law." 
 
 "Your manner of proceeding, then," said Wilhelm, "is entirely 
 different from the manner of our friends ? " 
 
 "Yes," rei:)lied Natalia; "and you may see the unexampled tol- 
 erance of these men, from the fact, that they nowise ^disturb me in 
 my practice ; but leave me on my own path, simpl}' because it is my 
 own, and even assist me in everything that I require of them." 
 
 A more minute description of Natalia's plans in managing her 
 children we reserve for some other opportunity. 
 
 Mignon often asked to be of their society ; and this they granted 
 her with greater readiness, as she appeared to be again accustoming 
 herself to Wilhelm, to be opening her heart to him, and in general to 
 have become more cheerful and contented with existence. In walk- 
 ing, being easily fatigued, she liked to hang upon his ann. " Mig- 
 non," she would say, " now climbs and bounds no more; yet she 
 still longs to mount the summit of the hills, to skip from house to
 
 BOOK VIIL CHAPTER IV. 385 
 
 liouse, from tree to tree. How enviable are tlie birds ; and tlien so 
 prettily and socially tliey build tbeir nests too ! " 
 
 Ere long it became habitual for her to invite lier friend, more than 
 once every day, into the garden. When Wilhelm was engaged or 
 absent, Felix had to take his place ; and if poor Mignon seemed at 
 times quite loosened from the earth, there were other moments when 
 she would again hold fast to father and son, and seemed to dread a 
 separation from them more than anything beside. 
 
 Natalia wore a thoughtful look. " We meant," said she, " to open 
 her tender little heart, by sending for you hither. I know not whether 
 we did prudently." She stopped, and seemed expecting Wilhelm to 
 say something. To him also it occurred that by his marriage with 
 Theresa, Mignon, in the present circumstances, would be fearfully 
 offended ; but in his uncertainty, he did not venture mentiouiug his 
 project ; he had no suspicion that Natalia knew of it. 
 
 As little could he talk with freedom, when his noble friend began 
 to speak about her sister ; to praise her good qualities, and to lament 
 her hapless situation. He felt exceedingly embarrassed when Natalia 
 told him he would shortly see the countess here. " Her husband," 
 said she, ' ' has now no object but replacing Zinzendorf in the com- 
 munity ; and by insight and activity supporting and extending that 
 establishment. He is coming with his wife, to take a sort of leave ; 
 he then purposes visiting the various spots where the community 
 have settled. They appear to treat him as he wishes ; and I should 
 not wonder if, in order to be altogether like his predecessor, ho ven- 
 tured, with my sister, on a voyage to America ; for being already 
 well-nigh convinced that a little more would make a saint of him, the 
 wish to superadd the dignity of martyrdom has probably enough 
 often flitted throught his mind." 
 
 CHAPTER IV, 
 
 They had often spoken of Theresa, often mentioned her in passing ; 
 and Wilhelm almost every time was minded to confess that he had 
 offered her his heart and hand. A certain feeling, which he was not 
 able to explain, restrained him ; he paused and wavered, till at length 
 Natalia, with the heavenly modest cheerful smile she often wore, 
 said to him : " It seems, then, I at last must break silence, and force 
 myself into your confidence ! Why, my friend, do you keep secret 
 from me an affair of such importance to yourself, and so closely touch- 
 ing my concerns 1 You have made my friend the offer of your hand. 
 I do not mix uncalled in the transaction : here are my credentials , 
 here is the letter which she writes to you, which she sends you 
 through my hands." 
 
 ■ Meister— 13
 
 880 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 " A letter from Theresa ! " cried he. 
 
 "Yes, mein herr ! Your destiny is settled; you are happy. Let 
 me congratulate my friend and you on your good fortune." 
 
 Wilbelm spoke not, but gazed out before him. Natalia looked at 
 him; she saw that he was pale. "Your joy is strong," continued 
 she ; " it takes the form of terror, it deprives you of the power to 
 speak. My participation is not the less cordial that I show it to you 
 in words. I hope you will be grateful ; for I may say, my influ- 
 ence on the decision of your bride has not been small ; she asked me 
 for advice ; and as it happened, by a singular coincidence, that you 
 were here just then, I was enabled to destroy the few scruples she 
 still entertained. Our messages went swiftly to and fro : here is her 
 determination ; here is the conclusion of the treaty ! And now you 
 shall read her other letters, you shall have a free clear look into the 
 fair heart of your Theresa." 
 
 Wilhelm opened the letter, which she handed him unsealed. It 
 contained these friendly words : 
 
 " I am yours, as I am and as you know me. I call you mine, as 
 you are and as I know you. What in ourselves, what in our connec- 
 tion wedlock changes, we shall study to adjust, by reason, cheerful- 
 ness and mutual good-will. As it is no passion, but trust and inclina- 
 tion for each other that is leading us together, we run less risk 
 than thousands of others. You will forgive me, will you not, if I 
 still think kindly of my former friend ; in return, I will press your 
 Felix to my heart, as if I were his mother. If you choose to share 
 my little mansion straightwa}'', we are lord and master there, and in 
 the meanwhile the purchase of your land might be concluded. I 
 could wish that no new arrangements were made in it without me. I 
 could wish at ouce to prove that I deserve the confidence which you 
 repose in me. 'Adieu, dear, dear friend ! Beloved bridegroom, hon- 
 ored husband ! Theresa clasps you to her breast with hope and joy. 
 My friend will tell you more, will tell you all." 
 
 Wilhelm, to whose mind this sheet recalled the image of Theresa 
 with the liveliest distinctness, had now recovered his composure. 
 While reading, thoughts had rapidly alternated within his soul. 
 With terror, he discovered in his heart tlie most vivid traces of an 
 inclination to Natalia ; he blamed himself, declaring every thought 
 of that description to be madness ; he represented to himself Theresa 
 in her whole perfection : he again perused the letter, he grew cheer- 
 ful, or rather he so far regained his self-possession that he could ap- 
 pear cheerful. Natalia handed him the letters which had passed be- 
 tween Theresa and herself : out of Theresa's we propose extracting 
 one or two passages. 
 
 After delineating her bridegroom in her own peculiar way, Theresa 
 thus proceeded : 
 
 " Such is the notion I have formed of the man who now offers me 
 his hand. What he thinks of himself thou shalt see by and by, in
 
 BOOK VllL VHAPTEH. IV. 887 
 
 the papers he has sent me, where he altogether candidly draws his 
 own portrait ; I feel persuaded that I shall be happy with him." 
 
 " As to rank, thou knewest my ideas on this point long ago. Some 
 people look on disagreement of external circumstances as a fearful 
 thing, and cannot remedy it. I wish not to persuade any one, I wish to 
 act according to my own persuasion. I mean not to set others an exam- 
 ple, nor do I act without example. It is interior disagreements only 
 that frighten me ; a frame that does not fit what it is meant to hold ; 
 much pomp and little real enjoyment ; wealth and avarice, nobility 
 and rudeness, youth and pedantry, poverty and ceremonies, — these 
 are the things which would annihilate me, however it may please the 
 world to stamp and rate them." 
 
 " If I hope that we shall suit each other, the hope is chiefly founded 
 upon this, that he resembles thee, my dear Natalia, thee, whom I so 
 highly prize and reverence. Yes, he has thy noble searching and 
 striving for the better, whereby we of our.selves produce the good 
 which we suppose we find. How often have I blamed thee, not in 
 silence, for treating this or that person, for acting in this or that case, 
 otherwise than I should have done ; and yet in general the issue 
 showed that thou wert right. ' When we take people,' thou wouldst 
 say, ' merely as they are, we make them worse ; when we treat them 
 as if they were what they should be, we improve them as far as they 
 can be improved.' To see or to act thus, I know full well is not for 
 mft. Skill, order, discipline, direction, that is my affair. I always 
 t-ecoUect what Jarno said : ' Theresa trains her pupils, Natalia forms 
 them.' Nay, once he went so far as to assert that of the three fair 
 qualities, faith, love and hope, I was entirely destitute. ' Instead of 
 faith,' said he, ' she has penetration, instead of love she has steadfast- 
 ness, instead of hope she has trust.' Indeed I will confess that until 
 I knew thee, I knew nothing higher in the world than clearness and 
 prudence ; it was thy presence only that persuaded, animated, con- 
 quered me ; to thy fair lofty soul I willingly give place. My friend, 
 too, I honor on the same principle ; the description of his life is a 
 perpetual seeking without finding ; not empty seeking, but wondrous 
 generous seeking ; he fancies others may give him what can proceed 
 from himself alone. So, love, the clearness of my vision has not 
 injured me, on this occasion, more than others. I know my hitsband 
 better than he knows himself, and I value him the more. I see him, 
 yet I see not over him ; all my skill will not enable me to judge of 
 what he can accomplish. When I think of him, his image always 
 blends itself with thine. I know not how I have deserved to belong 
 to two such persons. But I will deserve it, by endeavoring to do my 
 duty, by fulfilling what is looked for from me." 
 
 "If I recollect Lothario? Vividly and daily. In the company 
 which in thought surrounds me, I cannot want him for a moment.
 
 388 MEI8TER'8 APPBENT1GE8HIP. 
 
 O, what a pity for tliis noble character, related by an error of Ins 
 youth to me, that nature has related him to thee ! A being such as 
 thou, in truth, were worthier of him than I. To thee 1 could, I 
 would surrender him. Let us be to him all we can, till he find a 
 proper wife ; and then too let us be, let us abide together." 
 
 " But what shall we say to our friends?" began Natalia. — "Your 
 brother does not know of it?" — " Not a hint ; your people know as 
 little : we women have, on this occasion, managed the affair ourselves. 
 Lydia had put some whims into Theresa's head concerning Jarno and 
 the abbe. There are certain plans and secret combinations, with the 
 general scheme of which I am acquainted, and into which I never 
 thought of penetrating farther. With regard to these, Theresa has, 
 through Lydia, taken up some shadow of suspicion ; so in this decis- 
 ive step she would not suffer any one but me to influence her. Witli 
 my brother it had been already settled, that they should merely 
 announce their marriages to one another, not giving or asking counsel 
 on the subject." 
 
 Natalia wrote a letter to her brother ; she invited Wilhelm to sub- 
 join a word or two, Theresa having so desired it. They were just 
 about to seal, when Jarno unexpectedly sent up his name. His recep- 
 tion was of course as kind as possible ; he wore a sportful merry air ; 
 he could not long forbear to tell his errand. " I am come," said he, 
 ' ' to give you very curious and very pleasing tidings : they concern 
 Theresa. You have often blamed us, fair Natalia, for troubling our 
 heads about so many things ; but now you see how good it is to have 
 one's spies in every place. Guess, and let us see your skill for 
 once ! " 
 
 The self-complacency with which he spoke these words, the roguish 
 mien with which he looked at Wilhelm and Natalia, persuaded both 
 of them that he had found their secret. Natalia answered smiling : 
 " We are far more skillful than you think. Before we even heard 
 your riddle, we had put the answer to it down in black and white." 
 
 With these words, she handed him the letter to Lothario ; satisfied 
 at having met, in this way, the little triumph and surprise he had 
 meant for them. Jarno took the sheet with some astonishment ; ran 
 it quickly over ; started ; let it drop from his hands, and stared at 
 both his friends with an expression of amazement, nay, of fright, 
 which on his countenance was rare. He spoke no word. 
 
 Wilhelm and Natalia were not a little struck ; Jarno stepped up 
 and down the room. "What shall I say?" cried he ; "or shall I 
 say it at all ? But it must come out ; the perplexity is not to be 
 avoided. So secret for secret ; surprise against surprise ! Theresa 
 is not the daughter of her reputed mother ! The hindrance is re^ 
 moved ; I came to ask you to prepare her for a marriage with Lo- 
 thario. " 
 
 Jarno saw the shock which he had given his friends ; they cas^
 
 BOOK VIII. CHAPTER TV. 389 
 
 their eyes upon the ground. " The present case," said he, "is one 
 of those wliich are worse to bear in company. What each has to 
 consider in it, lie considers best in solitude ; I at least require an hour 
 of leave." He hastened to the garden ; Wilhelm followed him me- 
 chanically, yet without approaching near. 
 
 At the end of an hour, they were again assembled. Wilhelm 
 opened the conversation : " Formerly," said he, " while I was living 
 without plan or object, in a state of carelessness, or I may say of levity, 
 friendship, love, affection, trust came towards me with open arms, 
 they pressed themselves upon me ; but now when I am serious, des- 
 tiny appears to take another course with me. This resolution, of 
 soliciting Theresa's hand, is probably the first that has proceeded 
 altogether from myself. I laid my plan considerately ; my reason 
 fully joined in it ; by the consent of that noble maiden all my hopes 
 were crowned. But now the strangest fate puts back my outstretched 
 hand ; Theresa reaches hers to me, but from afar, as in a dream ; I 
 cannot grasp it ; and the lovely image leaves me forever. So fare 
 thee well, thou lovely image ! and all ye images of richest happiness 
 that gathered round it ! " - 
 
 He was silent for a moment, looking out before him ; Jamo was 
 about to speak " Let me have another word," cried W^ilhelm, "for 
 the lot is drawing which is to decide the destiny of all my life. At 
 this moment I am aided and confirmed by the impression which 
 Lothario's presence made upon me at the first glance, and which has 
 ever since continued with me. That man well merits every sort of 
 friendship and affection ; and without sacrifices friendship cannot be 
 imagined. For his sake it was easy for me to delude a hapless girl ; 
 for his sake it shall be possible for me to give away the worthiest 
 bride. Return, relate the strange occurrence to him, and tell him 
 what I am prepared for. " 
 
 "In emergencies like this," said Jamo, " I hold that everything is 
 done, if one do nothing rashly. Let us take no step till Lothario has 
 agreed to it. I will go to him ; wait patiently for my return, or for 
 his letter." 
 
 He rode away ; and left his friends in great disquiet. They had 
 time to reconsider these events, to think of them maturely. It now 
 first occurred to them, that they had taken Jarno's statement simply 
 by itself, and without inquiring into any of the circumstances. Wil- 
 helm was not altogether free from doubts ; but next day, their aston- 
 ishment, nay, their bewilderment, arose still higher, when a messenger 
 arriving from Theresa, brought the following letter to Natalia : 
 
 " Strange as it may seem, after all the letters I have sent, I am 
 obliged to send another, begging that thou wouldst dispatch my 
 bridegroom to me instantly. He shall be my husband, what plans 
 soever they may lay to rob me of him. Give him the inclosed letter ; 
 only not before witnesses, whoever they may be ! " 
 
 The inclosed letter was as follows : " What opinion will you form
 
 390 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 of your Theresa, when you see her all at once insisting passionately 
 on a union which calm reason alone appeared to have appointed? 
 Let nothing hinder you from setting out the moment you have read 
 this letter. Come, my dear, dear friend ; now three times dearer, 
 since they are attempting to deprive me of you." 
 
 " What is to be done ? " cried Wilhelm, after he had read the letter. 
 
 " In no case that 1 remember," said Natalia, after some reflection, 
 "have my heart and judgment been so dumb as in the present oije ; 
 what to do or to advise I know not." 
 
 "Can it be," cried Wilhelm vehemently, " that Lothario does not 
 know of it ; or if he does, that he is but like us, the sport of hidden 
 plans 1 Has Jarno, when he saw our letter, devised that fable on the 
 spot ? Would he have told us something different, if we had not 
 been so precipitate ? What can they mean ? W^hat intentions can 
 they have? What plan can Theresa mean? Yes, it must be owned, 
 Lothario is begirt with secret influences and combinations ; I myself 
 have found that they are active, that they take a certain charge of 
 the proceedings, of the destiny of several people, and contrive to 
 guide them. The ulterior objects of these mysteries I know not ; 
 but their nearest purpose, that of snatching my Theresa from me, I 
 perceive but too distinctly. On the one hand, this prospect of Lo- 
 thario's happiness which they exhibit to me may be but a hollow 
 show ; on the other hand, I see my dear, my honored bride inviting 
 me to her affection. What shall I do? What shall I forbear?" 
 
 " A little patience ! " said Natalia ; '• a little time for thought ! In 
 these singular perplexities, I know but this, that what can never be 
 recalled should not be done in haste. To a fable, to an artful plan we 
 have steadfastness and prudence to oppose : whether Jarno has been 
 speaking true or false must soon appear. If my brother has actually 
 hopes of a connection with Theresa, it were hard to cut him off for- 
 ever from that prospect, at the moment when it seems so kindly in- 
 viting him. Let us wait at least till we discover whether he himself 
 knows anything of it, whether he believes and hopes." 
 
 These prudent counsels were confirmed by a letter from Lothario. 
 " I do not send Jarno," he wrote : "a line from my hand is more to 
 thee than the minutest narrative in the mouth of a messenger. I am 
 certain Theresa is not the daughter of her reputed mother : and I 
 cannot renounce hope of being hers, till she too is persuaded, and can 
 then decide between my friend and me with calm consideration. Let 
 him not leave thee, I entreat it ! The happiness, the life of a brother 
 is at stake. I pi'omise thee, this uncertainty shall not be long." 
 
 "You see how the matter stands," said she to Wilhelm, with a 
 friendly air; "give me your word of honor that you will not leave 
 the house ! " 
 
 " I give it ! " cried he, stretching out his hand : " I will not leave 
 this house against your will. I thank Heaven, and my better genius, 
 that on this occasion I am led, and led by you."
 
 BOOK VIIL CHAPTER IV. 391 
 
 Natalia wrote Theresa an account of everything ; declaring that she 
 would not let her friend away. She sent Lothario's letter also. 
 
 Theresa answered : "I wonder not a little that Lothario i.s himself 
 convinced : to his sister he would not feign to this extent. I am 
 vexed, greatly vexed. It is better that I say no more. But I will 
 come to thee, so soon as I have got poor Lydia settled : they are treat- 
 ing her cruelly. I fear we are all betrayed, and shall be so betrayed 
 that we shall never reach the truth. If my friend were of my opinion, 
 he would give thee the slip after all, and throw himself into the arms 
 of his Theresa, whom none shall take away from him. But I, as I 
 dread, shall lose him, and not regain Lothario. From the latter 
 they are taking Lydia, by showing him afar off the prospect of ob- 
 taining me. I will say no more : the entanglement will grow still 
 deeper. Whether, in the meantime, these beautiful relations to each 
 other may not be so pushed aside, so undermined and broken down, 
 that when the darkness passes off, the mischief shall no longer admit 
 of remedy, time will show. If my friend do not tear himself away, 
 in a few days I myself will come and seek him out beside thee, and 
 hold him fast. Thou marvelest how this passion can have gained the 
 mastery of thy Theresa. It is no passion, but conviction ; it is^ a 
 belief that since Lothario can never be mine, this new friend will 
 make me happy. Tell him so, in the name of the little boy that sat 
 with him underneath the oak, and thanked him for his sympathy. 
 Tell it him in the name of Theresa, who met his offers in a hearty 
 openness. My first dream of living with Lothario has wandered far 
 away from my soul ; the dream of living with my other friend is yet 
 wholly present to me. Do they hold me so light, as to think that it 
 were easy to exchange the former with the latter ? " 
 
 " I depend on you," said Natalia to Wilhelm, handing him the 
 letter : " you will not leave me. Consider that the comfort of my life is 
 in your hands. My being is so intimately bound and interwoven with 
 my brother's that he feels no sorrow which I do not feel, no joy whiclx 
 does not likewise gladden me. Nay, I may truly say, through him 
 alone I have experienced that the heart can be affected and exalted : 
 that in the world there may be joy, love and an emotion which con- 
 tents the soul beyond its utmost want." 
 
 She stopped; Wilhelm took her hand and cried: "O continue! 
 This is the time for a true mutual disclosure of our thoughts : it 
 never was more necessary for us to be well acquainted with each 
 other." 
 
 "Yes, my friend! "said she, smiling, with her quiet, soft, inde- 
 scribable dignity ; " perhaps it is not out of season, if I tell you that 
 the whole of wlxat so many books, of what the world holds up to us 
 and names love, has always seemed to me a fable." 
 
 " You have never loved?" cried Wilhelm. 
 
 " Never, or always ! " said Natalia.
 
 392 MEISTEB 'S APPBENTIGE8EIP. 
 
 CHAPTER V, 
 
 DtmiNG this conversation, tliey kept walking up and down the gar- 
 den, and Natalia gathered various flowers of singular forms, entirely 
 unknown to Wilhelm, who began to ask their names, and occupy 
 himself about them. 
 
 "You know not," said Natalia, "for whom I have been plucking 
 these ! I intend them for my uncle, whom we are to visit. The sun 
 is shining eveu now so bright on the hall of the past, I must lead 
 you in, this moment ; and I never go to it without a few of the flowers 
 which my uncle liked particularly, in my hand. He was a peculiar 
 man, susceptible of very strange impressions. For certain plants and 
 animals, for certain neighborhoods and persons, nay, for certain sorts 
 of minerals, he had an especial love, which he was rarely able to 
 explain. ' Had I not,' he would often say, ' from youth, withstood 
 myself, and striven to form my judgment upon wide and general 
 principles, I had been the narrowest and most intolerable person liv- 
 ing. For nothing can be more intolerable than circumscribed pecu- 
 liarity, in one from whom a pure and suitable activity might be 
 required.' And yet he was obliged to confess, that life and breath 
 would almost leave him, if he did not now and then indulge himself, 
 not from time to time allow himself a brief and jiassionate enjoyment 
 of what he could not always praise and justify. ' It is not my fault,' 
 said he, ' if I have not brought my inclinations and my reason into 
 perfect harmony.' On such occasions he would joke with me, and 
 say : ' Natalia may be looked upon as happy while she lives : her 
 nature asks nothing which the world does not wish and use.' " 
 
 So speaking, they arrived again at the house. Natalia led him 
 through a spacious passage to a door, before which lay two granite 
 Sphinxes. The door itself was in the Egyptian fashion, somewhat 
 narrower above tban below ; and its brazen leaves prepared one for a 
 serious or even a gloomy feeling. Wilhelm was, in consequence, 
 agreeably surprised, when his expectation issued in a sentiment of 
 pure, cheerful serenity, as he entered a hall, where art and life took 
 away all recollection of death and the grave. In the walls all round, 
 a series of proportionable arches had been hollowed out, and large 
 sarcophaguses stood in them : among the jiillars in the intervals 
 between them, smaller openings might be seen, adorned with urns 
 and similar vessels. The remaining spaces of the walls and vaulted 
 roof were regularly divided, and between bright and variegated bor- 
 ders, within garlands and other ornaments, a multitude of cheerful 
 and significant figures had been painted, upon rounds of different 
 sizes. The body-of the edifice was covered with that fine yellow 
 marble, which passes into reddish ; clear blue stripes of a chemical
 
 BOOK VTII. CHAPTER V. 393 
 
 substance happily imitating lapis-lazuli, while they satisfied the eye 
 with contrast, gave unity and combination to the whole. All this 
 pomp and decoration showed itself in the chastest architectural 
 forms ; and thus every one who entered felt as if exalted above him- 
 self, while the co-operating products of art, for the first time, taught 
 him what man is and what he may become. 
 
 Opposite the door, on a stately sarcophagus, lay a marble figure of 
 a noble-looking man, reclined upon a pillow. He held a roll before 
 him, and seemed to look at it with still attention. It was placed so 
 that you could read with ease the words which stood there : Think of 
 living. 
 
 Natalia took away a withered bunch of flowers, and laid the fresh 
 ones down before the figure of her uncle. For it was her uncle whom 
 the marble represented. Wilhelm thought he recognized the features 
 of the venerable gentleman whom he had seen wlien lying wounded 
 in the green of the forest. " Here he and I passed many an hour," 
 said Natalia, " while the hall was getting ready. In his latter years, 
 he had gathered several skillful artists round him ; and his chief 
 delight was to invent or superintend the drawings and cartoons for 
 these pictures." 
 
 Wilhelm could not satisfy himself with looking at the objects which 
 surrounded him. " What a life," exclaimed he, "in this hall of the 
 past ! One might with equal j ustice name it hall of the present and 
 the future. Such all were, such all will be. There is nothing transi- 
 tory but the individual who looks at and enjoys it. Here, this figure 
 of the mother pressing her infant to her bosom, will sur\-ive many 
 generations of happy mothers. Centuries hence, perhaps some father 
 will take pleasure in contemplating this bearded man, who has laid 
 aside his seriousness, and is playing with his son. Thus shamefaced 
 will the bride sit for ages, and amid her silent wishes, need that she 
 be comforted, that she be spoken to ; thus impatient will the bride- 
 groom listen on the threshold whether he may enter." 
 
 The figures Wilhelm was surveying with such rapture were of 
 almost boundless number and variety. From the first jocund impulse 
 of the child, merely to employ its every limb in sport, up to the 
 peaceful sequestered earnestness of the sage, you might, in fair and 
 living order, see delineated how man possesses no capacity or 
 tendency without employing and enjoying it. From the first soft 
 conscious feeling, when the maiden lingers in pulling up her pitcher, 
 and looks with satisfaction at her image in the clear fountain, to 
 those high solemnities when kings and nations invoke the gods at 
 the altar to witness their alliances, all was depicted, all was forcible 
 and full of meaning. 
 
 It was a world, it was a heaven, that in this abode surrounded the 
 spectator ; and beside the thoughts which those polished forms sug- 
 gested, beside the feelings they awoke, there still seemed something 
 farther to be present, something by which the whole man felt him-
 
 394 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 v,eU laid liold of. Willielm too observed this, though unable to 
 account for it. " What is this," exclaimed he, " which, independ- 
 ently of all signilicalion, without any sympathy that human incidents 
 and fortunes may inspire us with, acts on me so strongly and so 
 gracefully '! Jt speaks to me from the whole, it speaks from every 
 part ; though 1 have not fully understood the former, though I do 
 not specially apply the latter to myself ! What enchantment breathes 
 from these surfaces, these lines, these heights and breadths, these 
 masses and coloi-s ! What is it tliat makes these figures so delight- 
 ful, even when slightly viewed, and merely in the light of decora- 
 tions V Yes, I feel it : one might tarry here, might rest, might view 
 the whole, and be happy ; and yet feel and think something alto- 
 gether different from aught that stood before his eyes." 
 
 And certainly if we were able to describe how happily the whole 
 was subdivided, how everything determined by its place, by" combina- 
 tion or by contrast, by uniformity or by variety, appeared exactly 
 as it should have done, producing an effect as perfect as distinct, we 
 should transport the reader to a scene, from which he would not be in 
 haste to stir. 
 
 Four large marble candelabra rose in the corners of the hall ; four 
 smaller ones were in the midst of it, around a very beautifully worked 
 sarcophagus, which, judging from its size, might once have held a 
 young person of middle stature. 
 
 Natalia paused beside this monument ; she laid her hand upon it 
 as she said : " My worthy uncle had a great attachment to this fine 
 antique. 'It is not,' he would often say, 'the first blossoms alone 
 that drop ; such you can keep above in these little spaces ; but fruits 
 also, which, hanging on their twigs, long give us the fairest hope, 
 whilst a secret worm is preparing their too early ripeness and their 
 quick decay.' I fear," continued she, " his words have been pro- 
 phetic of that dear little girl, who seems withdrawing gradually from 
 our cares, and bending to this peaceful dwelling." 
 
 As they were about to go, Natalia stopped and said : ' ' There is 
 something still which merits your attention. Observe these half-round 
 openings aloft on both sides. Here the choir can stand concealed 
 while singing ; these iron ornaments below the cornice serve for 
 fastening on the tapestry, which, by order of my uncle, must be hung 
 round at every burial. Music, particularly song, was a pleasure he 
 could not live without ; and it Avas one of his peculiarities that he 
 wished the singer not to be in view. ' In this respect, ' he would say, 
 'they spoil us at the theater; the music there is, as it were, sub- 
 servient to the eye ; it accompanies movements, not emotions. In 
 oratories and concerts, the form of the musician constantly disturbs 
 us : true music is intended for the ear alone ; a fine voice is the most 
 universal thing that can be figured ; and while the narrow individual 
 that iises it presents himself before the eye, he cannot fail to trouble 
 the effect of that universality. The person who I am to speak 'with,
 
 :BOOK Tin. CHAPTER V. 395 
 
 1 must see, because it is a solitary man, whose form and cliaracter 
 gives worth or worthlessness to what he says ; but, on the other 
 hand, whoever sings to me must be invisible ; his form must not con- 
 fuse me, or cerrupt my judgment. Here, it is but one human organ 
 speaking to another ; it is not spirit speaking to spirit, not a thousand- 
 fold world to the eye, not a heaven to the man.' On the same prin- 
 ciples, in respect of instrumental music, he required that the orchestra 
 should as much as possible be hid ; because by the mechanical exer- 
 tions, by the mean and awkward gestures of the performers, our 
 feelings are so much dispersed and perplexed. Accordingly he always 
 used to shut his eyes while hearing music ; thereby to "concentrate 
 his whole being on the single pure enjoyment of the ear." 
 
 They were about to leave the hall, when they heard the children 
 running hastily along the passage, and Felix crying : " Xo, I ! Xo, I ! " 
 
 Mignon rushed in at the open door : she was foremost, but out of 
 breath, and could not speak a word. Felix, still at some distance, 
 shouted out : " Mamma Theresa is come ! " The children had run 
 a race, as it seemed, to bring the news. Mignon was lying in Nata- 
 lia's arms, her heart was beating fiercely. 
 
 " Naughty child," said Natalia : " art thou not forbidden violent 
 motions ? See how thy heart is beating ! " 
 
 " Let it break ! " said Mignon with a deep sigh : "it has beat too 
 long." 
 
 They had scarcely composed themselves from this surprise, this sort 
 of consternation, when Theresa entered. She flew to Natalia ; clasped 
 her and Mignon in her arms. Then turning round to Wilhelm, she 
 looked at him with her clear eyes, and said : " Well, my friend, how 
 is it with you '? You have not let them cheat you ? " He made a step 
 towards her ; she sprang to him, and hung upon his neck. ' ' my 
 Theresa ! " cried he. 
 
 " My friend, my love, my husband ! Yes, forever thine ! " cried 
 she, amid the warmest kisses. 
 
 Felix pulled her by the gown, and cried : " Mamma Theresa, I sq^ 
 here too ! " Natalia stood, and looked before her. Mignon on a 
 sudden clapped her left hand on her heart, and stretching out the 
 right arm violently, fell with a shriek at Natalia's feet, as dead. 
 
 The fright was great : no motion of the heart or pulse was to be 
 traced. Wilhelm took her on his arm, and hastily carried her away ; 
 tlie body hung lax over his shoulders. The presence of the doctor 
 was of small avail ; he and the young surgeon, whom we know 
 already, strove in vain. The dear little creature could not be recalled 
 to life. 
 
 Natalia beckoned to Theresa : the latter took her friend by the hand 
 and led him from the room. He was dumb, not uttering a word ; he 
 durst not meet her eyes. He sat down with her upon the sofa, where 
 he had first found Natalia. He thought with great rapidity along a 
 series of fateful incidents, or rather he did not think, but let his soul
 
 396 MEISTEB'8 APPBENTIGESMP. 
 
 be worked on by tlie tliouglits which would not leave it. There are 
 moments in life, when past events, like winged shuttles, dart to and 
 fro before us, and by their incessant movements weave a web, which 
 we ourselves, in a greater or less degree, have spun* and put upon 
 the loom. "My friend, my love !" said Theresa, breaking silence, 
 as she took him by the hand. " Let us stand together firmly in this 
 hour, as we perhaps shall often have to do in similar hours. These 
 are occurrences which it takes two united hearts to suffer. Think, 
 my friend, feel that thou art not alone ; show that thou lovest thy 
 Theresa by imparting thy sorrows to her ! " She embraced him and 
 drew him softly to her bosom : he clasped her in his arms and pressed 
 her strongly towards him. "The poor child," cried he, "used in 
 mournful moments to seek shelter and protection in my unstable 
 bosom : let the stability of thine assist me in this heavy hour." They 
 held each other fast ; he felt her heart beat against his breast ; but in 
 his spirit all was desolate and void ; only the figures of Mignon and 
 Natalia flitted like shadows across the waste of his imagination. 
 
 Natalia entered. "Give us thy blessing !" cried Theresa. "Let 
 us, in this melancholy moment, be united before thee ! " Wilhelm 
 had hid his face upon Theresa's neck : he was so far relieved that he 
 could weep. He did not hear Natalia come ; he did not see her ; but 
 at the sound of her voice his tears redoubled. " What God has joined 
 I will not part," she answered, smiling ; " but to unite you is not in 
 my power ; nor am I gratified to see that sorrow and sympathy seem 
 altogether to have banished from your hearts the recollection of my - 
 brother." At these words, Wilhelm started from Theresa's arms. 
 ' ' Whither are you going ? " cried the ladies. ' ' Let me see the child ," 
 said he, "whom I have killed ! Misfortune when we look upon it 
 with our eyes is smaller than when our imagination sinks the evil 
 down into the recesses of the soul. Let us view the departing angel ! 
 Her serene countenance will say to us that it is well with her." As 
 his friends could not restrain the agitated youth, they followed him ; 
 but the worthy doctor with the surgeon met them, and prevented 
 them from coming near the dead. " Keep away from this mournful 
 object," said he ; " and allow me, so far as I am able, to give some 
 continuance to these remains. On this dear and singular being I will 
 now display the beautiful art not only of embalming bodies, but of 
 retaining in them a look of life. As I foresaw her death, the prepa- 
 rations are already made ; with these helps I shall undoubtedly suc- 
 ceed. Give me but a few days, and ask not to see the child again 
 till I have brought her to the hall of the past." 
 
 The young surgeon had in his hands that well-known case of in- 
 struments. " From whom can he have got it? " Wilhelm asked the 
 doctor. " I know it very well," replied Natalia: "he has it from 
 his father, who dressed your wounds when we found you in the 
 forest. " 
 
 "Then I have not been mistaken! I recognized the band at
 
 BOOK VIIL CHAPTER V. 397 
 
 once ! " cried Wilbelm. " O get it for me ! It was this that first 
 gave me any hint of my unknown benefactress. What weal and woe 
 will such a thing survive ! Beside how many sorrows has this band 
 already been, and its threads still hold together ! How many men's 
 last moments has it witnessed, and its colors are not yet faded ! It 
 was near me in one of the fairest hours of my existence, when I lay 
 wounded on the ground, and your helpful form appeared before me, 
 and the child whom we are now lamenting sat with its bloody hair, 
 busied with the tenderest care to save my life ! " 
 
 It was not long that our friends could converse about this sad oc- 
 currence ; that Theresa could inquire about the child, and the proba- 
 ble cause of its unexpected death ; for strangers were announced ; 
 who, on making their appearance, proved to be well-known strangers. 
 Lothario, Jarno and the abbe entered. Natalia met her brother : 
 among the rest there was a momentary silence. Theresa, smiling 
 on Lothario, said: "You scarcely expected to find me here; of 
 course, it would not have been advisable that we should visit one 
 another at the present time : however, after such an absence, take 
 my cordial welcome." 
 
 Lothario took her hand, and answered : " If we are to suffer and 
 renounce, it may as well take place in the presence of the object 
 whom we love and wish for. I desire no infiuence on your de- 
 termination ; my confidence in your heart, in your understanding and 
 clear sense, is still so great, that I willingly commit to your disposal 
 my fate and that of my friend." 
 
 The conversation turned immediately to general, nay, we may say, 
 to trivial topics. The company soon separated into single pairs, for 
 walking. Natalia was with her brother ; Theresa with the abbe ; 
 our friend was left with Jarno in the castle. 
 
 The appearance of the guests at the moment when a heavy sorrow 
 was oppressing Wilhelm, had, instead of dissipating his attention, 
 irritated him and made him worse : he was fretful and suspicious, 
 and unable or uncareful to conceal it, when Jarno qnestioued him 
 about his sulky silence. " What is the use of saying more 1 " cried 
 Wilhelm. " Lothario with his helpers is come ; and it were strange 
 if those mysterious watchmen of the tower, who are constantly so 
 busy, did not now exert their influence on us, to effect I know not 
 what strange purpose. So far as I have known these saintly gentle- 
 men, it seems to be in every case their laudable endeavor to separate 
 the united, and to unite the separated. What sort of web their 
 weaving will produce, may probably to unholy eyes be forever a 
 riddle." 
 
 " You are cross and bitter," said the other ; " that is as it should 
 be. Would you get into a proper passion, it were still better." 
 
 " That too might come about," said Wilhelm : " I fear much some 
 of you are in the mind to load my patience, natural and acquired, 
 beyond what it will bear."
 
 898 MEISTBR'S APPRENTICESHIP^ 
 
 '' In the meantime," said the other, "till we see what is to be the 
 issue of the matter, I could like to tell you somewhat of the tower, 
 which you appear to view with such mistrust." 
 
 " It stands with you," said Wilhelm, " whether you will risk your 
 eloquence on an attention so distracted. My mind is so engaged at 
 present, tha I know not whether I can take a proper interest in these 
 very dignified adventures." 
 
 " Your pleasing humor shall not hinder me," said Jarno, " from 
 explaining this affair to you. You reckon me a clever fellow ; I 
 want to make you reckon me an honest one ; and what is more, on 
 this occasion I am bidden speak." — " I could wish," said Wilhelm, 
 "that you did it of yourself, and with an honest purpose to inform 
 me ; but as I cannot hear without suspicion, wherefore should I hear 
 at all? " — " If I have nothing better to do," said Jarno, " than tell 
 you stories, you too have time to listen to me ; and to this you may 
 perhaps feel more inclined, when I assure you, that all you saw in 
 the tower was but the relics of a youthful undertaking, in regard to 
 which the greater part of the initiated were once in deep earnest, 
 though all of them now view it with a smile." 
 
 "So, with these pompous signs and words, you do bxit mock?" 
 cried Wilhelm. " With a solemn air, you lead us to a place inspir- 
 ing reverence by its aspect ; you make the strangest visions pass be- 
 fore us ; you give us rolls full of glorious mystic apophthegms, of 
 which in truth we understand but little ; you disclose to us that hith- 
 erto we have been pupils ; you solenmly pronounce us free ; and we 
 are just as wise as we were."^ — " Have you not the parchment by 
 you?" said the other. " It contains a deal of sense : those general 
 apophthegms were not picked up at random ; though they seem ob- 
 scure and empty to a man without experiences to recollect while read- 
 ing them. But give me the indenture, as we call it, if it is at hand." 
 — "Quite at hand," cried Wilhelm ; "such an amulet well merits 
 being worn upon one's breast." — " Well," said Jarno, smiling, " who 
 knows whether the contents of it may not one day find place in your 
 head and heart ? " 
 
 He opened the roll, and glanced over the first half of it. " This," 
 said he, " regards the cultivation of our gifts for art and science ; of 
 which let others speak : the second treats of life ; here I am more at 
 home. " 
 
 He then began to read passages, speaking between whiles, and con- 
 necting them with his remarks and narrative. " The taste of youth 
 for secrecy, for ceremonies, for imposing words, is extraordinarj- ; 
 and frequently bespeaks a certain depth of character. In those years, 
 we wish to feel our whole nature seized and moved, even though it be 
 but vaguely and darkly. The youth who happens to have lofty aspi- 
 rations and forecastings, thinks that secrets yield him much, that he 
 must depend much on secrets, and effect much by means of them. It 
 was with such views that the abb6 favored a certain society of young
 
 BOOK VIII. CHAPTER V. 399 
 
 men ; partly according to his principle of aiding every tendency of 
 nature, partly out of habit and inclination ; for in former times he had 
 himself been joined to an association, which appears to have accom- 
 plished many things in secret. For this business I was least of all 
 adapted. I was older than the rest ; from youth I had thought clearly ; 
 I wished in all things nothing more than clearness ; I felt no interest 
 in men, but to know them as they were. With the same taste I grad- 
 ually infected all the best of our associates ; and this circumstance 
 had almost given a false direction to our plan of culture. For we 
 now began to look at nothing but the errors and narrowness of others, 
 and to think ourselves a set of highly-gifted personages. Here the 
 abb6 came to our assistance : he taught us, that we never should in- 
 spect the conduct of men, unless we at the same time took an interest 
 in improving it ; and that through action only could we ever be in a 
 condition to inspect and watch ourselves. He advised us, however, 
 to retain the primary forms of the society : hence there was still a 
 sort of law in our proceedings ; the first mystic impressions might be 
 traced in the constitution of the whole. At length, as by a practical 
 similitude, it took the form of a corporate trade, whose business was 
 the arts. Hence came the name of apprentices, assistants, and mas- 
 ters. We wished to see with our own eyes, and to form for ourselves 
 a special record of our own expeiuence in the world. Hence those 
 numerous confessions, which in part we ourselves wrote, in part made 
 others write ; and out of which the several " Apprenticeships " were 
 afterwards compiled. The formation of his character is not the chief 
 concern with every man. Many mei-ely wish to find a sort of receipt 
 for comfort, directions for acquiring riches, or whatever good they 
 aim at. All such, when they would not be instructed in their proper 
 duties, we were wont to mystify, to treat with juggleries and every 
 sort of hocus-pocus, and at lengtli to shove aside. We advanced none 
 to the rank of masters but such as clearly felt and recognized the 
 purpose they were born for, and had got enough of practice to proceed 
 along their way with a certain cheerfulness and ease." 
 
 "In my case, then," cried Wilhelm, "your ceremony has been 
 very premature ; for since the day when you pronounced me free, 
 what I can, will, or shall do, has been more unknown to me than 
 ever." — " We are not to blame for this perplexity ; perhaps good for- 
 tune will deliver us. In the meantime listen : ' He in whom there is ' 
 much to be developed will be later in acquiring true perceptions of y 
 himself and of the world. There are few who at once have thought 
 and the capacity of action. Thought expands, but lames ; action 
 animates, but narrows.' " 
 
 ' ' I beg of you," cried Wilhelm, ' ' not to read me any more of that sur- 
 prising stuff. These phrases have sufficiently confused me before." — 
 " I will stick by my story, then," said Jarno, half rolling up the parch- 
 ment, into which, however, he kejjt casting frequent glances. "I 
 myself have been of less service to the cause of our society and of my
 
 400 MEISTEB'S APPRENTIGESHIP. 
 
 fellow-men than any other member. I am but a bad sclioolmaster ; I 
 cannot bear to look on people making awkward trials ; when I see a 
 person wandering from his path, I feel constrained to call upon him, 
 although it were a night-walker going straight to brealc his neck. On 
 this point, I had a continual struggle with the abbe, who maintains 
 that error can never be cured except by erring. About you, too, we 
 often argued. He had taken an especial liking to you : and it is say- 
 ing something to have caught so much of his attention. For me, 
 you must admit, that every time we met, I told you just the naked 
 truth." — " Certainly, you spared me very little," said the other, " and 
 I think you still continue faithful to your principles." — " What is the 
 use of sparing," answered Jarno, " when a young man of many good 
 endowments is taking a quite false direction?" — " Pardon me," said 
 Wilhelm, "you have rigorously enough denied me any talent for the 
 stage ; I confess to you, that though I have entirely renounced the 
 art, I cannot think myself entirely incapable." — " And with me," said 
 Jarno, "it is well enough decided, that a person who can only play 
 liimself is no player. Whoever cannot change himself in temper and 
 in form, into many forms, does not deserve the name. Thus you, for 
 example, acted "Hamlet " and some other characters extremely well : 
 because in these your form, your disposition and the temper of the 
 moment suited. For an amateur theater, for any one who saw no 
 other way before him, this would perhaps have answered well enough. 
 But," continued Jarno, looking on the roll, ' ' ' we should guard against 
 a talent which we cannot hope to practice in perfection. Improve it 
 as we may, we shall always in the end, when the merit of the master 
 has become apparent to us, painfully lament the loss of time and 
 strength devoted to such botching.' " 
 
 " Do not read ! " cried Wilhelm ; " I entreat you earnestly ; speak 
 on, tell me, inform me ! So the abb6 aided me in Hamlet ; he 
 provided me a ghost?" — "Yes ; for he asserted that it was the only 
 way of curing you, if you were curable." — " And on this account 
 he left the veil, and bade me fly?" — "Yes, he hoped that having 
 fairly acted Hamlet, your desire of acting would be satiated. He 
 maintained that you would never go upon the stage again ; I believed 
 the contrary, and I was right. We argued on the subject, that 
 very evening when the play was over." — "You saw me, then?" 
 — "I did indeed." — "And who was it that played the Ghost?" — 
 — " That T cannot tell you ; either the abb6 or his twin brother ; but 
 I think the latter, for he is a little taller." — " You have secrets from 
 each other, then?" — " Friends may and must Jiave secrets from each 
 other ; but they are not secrets to each other." 
 
 "The very thought of that perplexity perplexes me. Let me 
 understand the man, to whom I owe so many thanks as well as such 
 reproaches." 
 
 " What gives him such a value in our estimation," answered Jarno, 
 " what in some degree secures him the dominion over all of us, is the
 
 BOOK VIIL CHAPTER V. 401 
 
 free sharp eye that nature has bestowed on him for all the powers 
 which dwell in man, and are susceptible of cultivation, each accord- 
 ing to its kind. Most men, even the most accomplished, are but 
 limited : each prizes certain properties in others and himself ; these 
 alone he favors, these alone will he have cultivated. Directly the 
 reverse is the procedure of our abbe ; for evei*y gift he has a feeling ; 
 every gift he delights to recognize and forward. But I must look into 
 my roll again ! ' It is all men that make up mankind ; all powers 
 taken together that make up the world. These are frequently at 
 variance : and as they endeavor to destroy each other, Nature holds 
 them together, and again produces them. From the first animal ten- 
 dency to handicraft attempts, up to the highest practicing of intellec- 
 tual art ; from the inarticulate Growings of the happy infant, up to 
 the polished utterance of the orator and singer ; from the first bicker- 
 ings of boys up to the vast equipments by which countries are con- 
 quered and retained ; from the slightest kindliness and the most 
 transitory love, up to the fiercest passion and the most earnest cove- 
 nant ; from the merest perception of sensible presence up to the faint- 
 est presentiments and hopes of the remotest spiritual future ; all this 
 and much more also lies in man, and must be cultivated ; yet not in 
 one, but in many. Every gift is valuable, and ought to be unfolded. 
 When one encourages the beautiful alone, and another encourages 
 the useful alone, it takes them both to form a man. The useful 
 encourages it.self ; for the multitude produce it, and no one can dis- 
 pense with it : the beautiful must be encouraged ; for few can set it 
 forth, and many may need it.'" 
 
 " Hold ! hold ! " cried Wilhelra : "I have read it all." — " Yet a line 
 or two ! " said Jarno ; " Here is our worthy abbe to a hairsbreadth ; 
 ' One power rules another ; none can cultivate another ; in each 
 endowment, and not elsewhere, lies the force which must complete it ; 
 this many people do not understand, who yet attempt to teach and 
 influence.' " — " I too do not under.stand it," answered Wilhelm. — 
 " You will often hear the abbe preach on this text ; and, therefore, 
 ' Let us merely keep a clear and steady eye on what is in ourselves ; 
 on what endowments of our own we mean to cultivate ; let us be just 
 to others ; for we ourselves are only to be valued in so far as we can 
 value.'" — " For Heaven's sake, no more of these wise saws ! I feel 
 them to be but a sorry balsam for a wounded heart. Tell me rather 
 with your cruel settledness, what you expect of me, how and in what 
 manner you intend to sacrifice me." — "For every such suspicion, I 
 assure you, you will afterwards beg our pardon. It is your affair to 
 try and choose ; it is ours to aid you. A man is never happy till his "1 
 vague striving has itself marked out its proper limitation. It is uot_l 
 to me that you must look, but to the abbe ; it is not of yourself that 
 you must think, but of what surrounds you. Thus, for instance, 
 learn to understand Lothario's superiority ; how his quick and com- 
 prehensive vision is inseparably united with activity ; how he con-
 
 403 MEI8TEB '8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 stantly advances ; liow he expands liis influence, and carries every 
 one along with him. Wherever he may be, he bears a world about 
 with him : his presence animates and kindles. Observe our good 
 physician on the other hand ! His nature seems to be directly the 
 reverse. If the former only works upon the general whole, and at a 
 distance, the latter turns his piercing eye upon the things that are 
 beside him ; he rather furnishes the means for being active, than 
 himself displays or stimulates activity. His conduct is exactly like 
 the conduct of a good domestic manager ; he is busied silently, while 
 he provides for each in his peculiar sphere ; his knowledge is a con- 
 stant gathering and expending, a taking in and giving out on the 
 small scale. Perhaps Lothario in a single day might overturn what 
 the other had for years been employed in building up : but perhaps 
 Lothario also might impart to others, in a moment, strength sufficient 
 to restore a hundredfold what he had overturned." — " It is but a sad 
 employment," answered Wilhelm, "to contemplate the sublime 
 advantages of others, at a moment when we are at variance with our- 
 selves. Such contemplations suit the man at ease ; not him whom 
 passion and uncertainty are agitating." — " Peacefully and reasonably 
 to contemplate is at no time hurtful," answered Jarno ; "and while 
 we use ourselves to think of the advantages of others, our own mind 
 comes insensibly to imitate them ; and every false activity, to which 
 our fancy was alluring us, is then willingly abandoned. Free your 
 mind, if you can, from all suspicion and anxiety. Here comes the 
 abbe ; be courteous towards him, till you have learned still farther 
 what you owe him. The rogue ! There he goes between Natalia 
 and Theresa ; I could bet he is contriving something. As in general 
 he likes to act the part of destiny a little ; so he does not fail to show 
 a taste for making matches, when he finds an opportunity." 
 
 Wilhelm, whose angry and fretful humor all the placid prudent 
 words of Jarno had not bettered, thought his friend exceedingly 
 indelicate for mentioning marriage at a moment like the present ; he 
 answered with a smile indeed, but a rather bitter one : " I thought 
 the taste for making matches had been left to those that had a taste 
 for one another. " 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The company had met again ; the conversation of our friends was 
 necessarily interrupted. Ere long a courier was announced, as wish- 
 ing to deliver with his own hand a letter to Lothario. The man was 
 introduced : he had a vigorous sufficient look ; his livery was rich and 
 handsome. Wilhelm thoug-ht he knew him : nor was he mistaken ; 
 for it was the man whom he had sent to seek Philina and the fancied
 
 BOOK VIII. CHAPTER Vl 403 
 
 Mariaua, and who never came back. Our friend %vas about to address 
 him, when Lothario, who had read the letter, asked the courier witli a 
 serious, almost angry tone : " What is your master's name ? " 
 
 " Of all questions," said the other with a prudent air, " this is the 
 one which I am least prejjared to answer. I hope the letter will 
 communicate the necessary information : verbally 1 have been charged 
 with nothing." 
 
 "Be it as it will," replied Lothario with a smile ; "since your 
 master puts such trust in me as to indite a letter so exceedingly 
 facetious, he shall be welcome to us." — " He will not keep you long 
 waiting for him," said the courier with a bow, and withdrew. 
 
 " Do but hear the distracted stupid message," said Lothario. 
 " ' As of all guests, good humor is believed to be the most agreeable 
 wherever he appears, and as I always keep that gentleman beside 
 me by way of traveling companion, I feel persuaded that the visit I 
 intend to pay your noble lordship will not be taken ill ; on the con- 
 trary, I hope the whole of your illustrious family will witness my 
 arrival with complete satisfaction ; and in due time also my departure ; 
 being always, et cetera, Count of Snailfoot.' " 
 
 " 'Tis a new family," said the abbe. 
 
 " A vicariat count, perhaps," said Jarno. 
 
 "The secret is easy to unriddle," said Natalia, " I wager it is none 
 but brother Friedrich, who has threatened us with a visit ever since 
 my uncle's death." 
 
 "Right ! fair and skillful sister ! " cried a voice from the nearest 
 thicket ; and imiuediately a i)leasant, cheerful youth stepped forward. 
 Wilhelm could scarcely restrain a cry of wonder. " How ? " exclaimed 
 he. " Does our fair-haired knave, too, meet me here?" Friedrich 
 looked attentively, and recognizing Wilhelm, cried : "In truth, it 
 woijld not have astonished me so much to have beheld the famous 
 pyramids, which still stand fast in Egypt, or the grave of King Mau- 
 solus, which, as I am told, does not exist, hei-e placed before me in 
 my uncle's garden, as to find you in it, my old friend, and frequent 
 benefactor. Accept my best and heartiest service ! " 
 
 After he had kissed and complimented the whole circle, he again 
 sprang towards Wilhelm, crying: "Use him well, this hero, this 
 leader of armies, and dramatical philosopher ! When we became 
 acquainted first, I dressed his hair indifferently, I may say execrably ; 
 yet he afterwards saved me from a pretty load of blows. He is 
 magnanimous as Scipio, munificent as Alexander : at times he is in 
 love, yet he never hates his rivals. Far from heaping coals of fire on 
 the heads of his enemies — a piece of service, I am told, which we can 
 do for any one — he rather, when his friends bave carried off his love, 
 dispatches good and trusty servants after them, that they nught not 
 strike their feet against a stone." 
 
 In the same style he ran along, with a volubility which baffled all 
 attempts to restrain it ; and as no one could reply to him in that vein,
 
 404 MElBTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 he had the conversation mostly to himself. " Do not wonder," cried 
 he, ' ' that I am so profoundly versed in sacred and profane writers : 
 you shall hear by and by how I attained my learning." They wished 
 to know how matters stood with him, where he had been ; but crowds 
 of proverbs and old stories choked his explanation. 
 
 Natalia whispered to Theresa : " His gayety afflicts me ; I am sure 
 at heart he is not merry." 
 
 As, except a few jokes which Jarno answered, Friedrich's merri- 
 ment was met by no response from those about him, he was obliged 
 at last to say : "Well, there is nothing left for me, but among so 
 many grave faces to be grave myself. And as in such a solemn 
 scene, the burden of my sins falls heavy on my soul, I must honestly 
 resolve upon a general confession ; for which, however, you, my 
 worthy gentlemen and ladies, shall not be a jot the wiser. This hon- 
 orable friend already knows a little of my walk and conversation ; he 
 alone shall know the rest ; and this the rather as he alone has any 
 cause to ask about it. Are not you," continued he to Wilhelm, "curi- 
 ous about the how and where, the when and wherefore 't And how it 
 stands with the conjugation of the Greek verb qjiXeoo, qiiAiS, and the 
 derivatives of that very amiable part of speech ? " 
 
 He then took Wilhelm by the arm. and led him off, pressing him 
 and .skipping rouud him with the liveliest air of kindness. 
 
 Scarcely had they entered Wilhelm's room, when Friedrich noticed 
 in the window a powder-knife, with the inscription, Tliiiik of me. 
 "You keep your valuables well laid up !" said he. "This is the 
 powder-knife Philina gave you, when I pulled your locks for you. I 
 hope, in looking at it, you have diligently thought of that fair 
 damsel : I assure you, she has not forgotten you ; if I had not long 
 ago obliterated every trace of jealousy from my heart, I could not 
 look on you without envy." 
 
 " Talk no more of that creature," answered Wilhelm. " I confess 
 it was a while before I could get rid of the impression which her looks 
 and manner made on me ; but that was all." 
 
 " Fy ! f y ! " cried Friedrich ; "would any one deny his deary ? You 
 loved her as completely as a man could wish. No day passed with- 
 out your giving her some present ; and when a German gives, you 
 may be sure he loves. No alternative remained for me but whisking 
 her away from you ; and in this the little red officer at last succeeded." 
 
 "How ! You were the officer whom we discovered with her, whom 
 she traveled off with?" 
 
 "Yes," said Friedrich, " whom you took for Mariana We had sport 
 enough at the mistake." 
 
 " What cruelty," cried Wilhelm, "to leave me in such suspense ! " 
 
 " And besides to take the courier, whom you sent to catch us, into 
 pay ? " said Friedrich. " He is a very active fellow ; we have kept 
 him by us ever since. And the girl herself I love as desperately as 
 ever. She has managed me in some peculiar style : I am almost in a
 
 BOOK VIIL CHAP TEE VL 405 
 
 inythologic case ; every day I tremble at the thought of being meta- 
 morphosed." 
 
 " But tell me, pray," said Wilhelm, " where have you acquired this 
 stock of erudition ? It surprises me to hear the strange way you liave 
 assumed of speaking always with a reference to ancient histories and 
 fables." 
 
 "It was by a pleasant plan," said Friedrich, " that I got my learn- 
 ing. Philina lives with me at present : we have got a lease of an old 
 knightly castle from the farmer in whose ground it is : and there we 
 live, with the hobgoblins of the place, as merrily as possible. In one 
 of the rooms, we found a .small and choice library, consisting of a 
 folio 'Bible,' 'Gottfried's Chronicle,' two volumes of the ' Thea- 
 trum Europaeum,' an ' Acerra Philoiogica,' ' Gryphius's Writings,' and 
 some other less important works. As we now and then, when tired 
 of romping, felt the time hang heavy on our hands, we proposed to 
 read some books : and before we were aware, the time hung heavier 
 than ever. At last, PhUina hit upon the royal plan of laying all the 
 tomes, opened at once, upon a large table : we sat down opposite to one 
 another ; we read to one another ; always in detached passages, first 
 from this book, then from that. Here was a very projier pleasure ! 
 We felt now as if we were in good society, where it is reckoned unbe- 
 coming to dwell on any subject, or search it to the bottom ; we thought 
 ourselves in witty gay society, where none will let his neighbor speak. 
 We regularly treat ourselves with this diversion every day ; and the 
 erudition we obtain from it is quite surprising. Already there is noth- 
 ing new for us under the sun ; on everything we see or hear our 
 learning offers us a hint. This method of instruction we diversify in 
 many ways. Frequently we read by an old spoiled sand-glass, which 
 runs in a minute or two. The moment it is down, the silent party 
 turns it round like lightning, and commences reading from his book ; 
 and no sooner is it down again, than the other cuts him short, and 
 starts the former topic. Thus \fe study in a truly academic manner ; 
 only our hours are shorter, and our studies are extremely varied." 
 
 " Tliis rioting is quite conceivable," said Wilhelm, "when a pair 
 like you two are together ; but how a pair so full of frolic stay to- 
 gether, does not seem so easily conceivable." 
 
 " It is our good fortune," answered Friedrich, " and our bad. Phi- 
 lina dare not let herself be seen, she cannot bear to see herself, she is 
 in the family way. Nothing ever was so ludicrous and shapeless in 
 the world. A little while before I came away, she chanced to cast an 
 eye upon the looking-glass in passing. ' Faugh ! ' cried she, and 
 turned away her face : ' the living picture of the Frau MeUna ! Shock- 
 ing figure ! One looks entirely deplorable I ' " 
 
 " I confess," said Wilhelm with a smile, " it must be rather farci- 
 cal to see a father and mother such as you and she together." 
 
 " 'Tis a foolish business," answered Friedrich, "that I must, at 
 last, be raised to the paternal dignity. But she asserts, and the time
 
 406 MmSTEB'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 agrees. At first that cursed visit which she paid you after Hamlet 
 gave me qualms." 
 
 "What visit?" 
 
 "1 suppose you have not quite slept off the memory of it yet? 
 The pretty flesh and-blood spirit of that night, if you do not know it, 
 was Philina. The story was in truth a hard dower for me ; but if 
 we cannot be content with such things, we should not be in love. 
 Fatherhood at any rate depends entirely upon conviction : I am con- 
 vinced and so I am a father. There, you see, I can employ my logic 
 in the proper season too. And if the brat do not iaugh itself to death 
 so soon as it is born, it may prove, if not a useful, at least a pleasant 
 citizen of this world." 
 
 Whilst our friends were talking thus of mirthful subjects, the rest 
 of the party had begun a serious conversation. Scarcely were Fried- 
 rich and Wilhelm gone, when the abbe led his friends, as if by 
 chance, into a garden-house ; and having got them seated, thus ad- 
 dressed them : 
 
 " We have in general terms asserted that Friiulein Theresa was not 
 the daughter of her reputed mother ; it is fit that we should now 
 explain ourselves on this matter, in detail. I shall relate the story 
 to you, which I undertake to prove and to elucidate in every point. 
 
 " Frau von *** spent the first years of her wedlock in the utmost 
 concord with her husband ; only they had this misfortune, that the 
 children she brought him came into the world dead ; and on occasion 
 of the third, the mother was declared by the physicians to be on the 
 verge of death, and to be sure of death if she should ever have 
 another. The parties were obliged to take their resolution: they 
 would not break the marriage ; it was too suitable to both, in a civil 
 point of view. Frau von *** sought in the culture of her mind, in a 
 certain habit of display, in the joys of vanity, a compensation for the 
 happiness of motherhood which was refused her. She cheerfully 
 indulged her husband, when she noticed in him an attachment to a 
 young lady, who had sole charge of their domestic economy ; a per- 
 son of beautiful exterior, and very solid character. Frau von *** 
 herself, ere long, assisted in procuring an arrangement ; by which 
 the lady yielded to the wishes of Theresa's father ; continuing to 
 discharge her household duties, and testify to the mistress of the 
 family, if possible, a more submissive zeal to serve her than before. 
 
 " After a while, she declared herself with child : and both the 
 father and his wife, on this occasion, though from very different 
 causes, fell upon the same idea. Herr von *** wished to have the 
 offspring of his mistress educated in the house as his lawful child ; 
 and Frau von ***, angry that the indiscretion of her doctor had 
 allowed some whisper of her condition to go abroad, proposed by a 
 supposititious child to counteract this ; and likewise to retain, by 
 such compliance, the superiority in her household, which otherwise 
 she was like to lose. However, she was more backward than her
 
 BOOK VIII. CHAPTER VI 40r 
 
 husband ; slie observed bis purpose ; and contrived, without any 
 formal question, to facilitate bis explanation. She made ber own 
 terms ; obtaining almost everything that she required ; and hence 
 the will, in which so little care was taken of the child. Tbe old 
 doctor was dead : they applied to a young, active and discreet suc- 
 cessor ; be was well rewarded ; be looked forward to the credit of 
 exposing aud remedying the unskillf ulness and premature decision of 
 his deceased colleague. The true mother, not unwillingly, con- 
 sented ; they managed the deception very well ; Theresa came into 
 the world, and was surrendered to a step-mother, while her mother 
 fell a victim to the plot ; having died by venturing out too early, and 
 left the father inconsolable. 
 
 " Frau von *** bad thus attained her object ; in tbe eyes of the 
 world she had a lovely child, which she paraded with excessive 
 vanity ; aud she had also been delivered from a rival, whose fortune 
 she envied, and whose influence, at least in prospect, she beheld 
 with apprehension. Tbe infant she loaded with her tenderness ; and 
 by affecting, in trustful hours, a lively feeling for ber husband's 
 loss, she gained mastery of bis heart ; so tbat in a manner be sur- 
 rendered all to her ; laid bis own happiness and that of bis child in 
 her hands ; nor was it till a short while prior to his death, and in 
 some degree by tbe exertions of his grown-up daughter, tbat he 
 again assumed the rule in bis own house. This, fair Theresa, was 
 in all probability the secret, wbich your father, in his last sickness, so 
 struggled to communicate ; this is what I wish to lay circum- 
 stantially before you, at a moment when our young friend, who by a 
 strange concurrence has become your bridegroom, happens to be 
 absent. Here are the papers, which will prove in the most rigorous 
 mannner everything that I have stated. You will also see from them 
 how long I have been following the trace of tins discovery, though 
 till now I could never attain certainty respecting it. I did not risk 
 imparting to my friend tbe possibility of such a happiness ; it would 
 have wounded him too deeply, bad this hope a second time deceived 
 him. You will understand poor Lydia's suspicions : I readily con- 
 fess, I nowise favored tbe attachment of our friend to her, whenever 
 I began to look for a connection with Tberesa." 
 
 To this recital no one replied. Tbe ladies, some days afterwards, 
 returned the papers, not making any farther mention of them. 
 
 Tbere were other matters in abundance to engage the party when 
 they were together ; and the scenery around was so delightful, tbat 
 our friends, singly or in company, on horseback, in carriages, or on 
 foot, delighted to explore it. On one of tbese excursions, Jamo took 
 an opportunity of opening tbe affair to Wilhelin : be delivered him 
 tbe papers ; not, however, seeming to require from him any resolu- 
 tion in regard to them. 
 
 " In the singular position I am placed in," said our friend, " I need 
 only repeat to you what I said at first, in presence of Natalia, and
 
 408 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 with tlie clear intention to fulfill it. Lothario and his friends may 
 require of me every sort of self-denial : I here abandon in their favor 
 all pretensions to Theresa ; do you procure me, in return, a formal 
 discharge. There requires no great reflection to decide. For some 
 days, I have noticed that Theresa has to make an effort in retaining 
 any show of the vivacity with which she welcomed me at first. Her 
 affection is gone from me, or rather I have never had it." 
 
 " Such affairs are more conveniently explained," said Jarno, "by 
 a gradual process, in silence and expectation, than by many words, 
 which always cause a sort of fermentation and embarrassment." 
 
 " I rather think," said Wilhelm, " that precisely this affair admits 
 of the most clear and calm decision on the spot. I have often been 
 reproached with hesitation and uncertainty ; why will you now, when 
 I do not hesitate, commit against myself the fault you have often 
 blamed in me? Do our neighbors take such trouble with our train- 
 ing, only to let us feel that they themselves are untrained ? Yes, 
 grant me soon the cheerful thought that I am out of a mistaken 
 project, into which I entered with the purest feelings in the world." 
 
 Notwithstanding this request, some days elapsed without his hear- 
 ing any more of the affair, or observing any farther alteration in his 
 friends. The conversation, on the contrary, was general and of in- 
 different matters. 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 Jarno and Wilhelm were sitting one day by Natalia. "You are 
 thoughtful, Jarno," said the lady ; " I have seen it in your looks for 
 some tinie." 
 
 "I am so," answered Jarno; "a weighty business is before me, 
 which we have for years been meditating, and must now begin to 
 execute. You already know the outline of it ; I may speak of it be- 
 fore our friend ; for it will depend on himself, whether he too shall 
 not share in it. You are going to get rid of me, before long ; I mean 
 to take a voyage to America." 
 
 " To America?" said Wilhelm smiling ; " such an adventure I did 
 not anticipate from you ; still less that you would have selected me 
 for a companion." 
 
 "When you rightly understand our plan," said Jarno, "you will 
 give it a more honorable name ; and perhaps yourself be tempted to 
 embark in it. Listen to me. It requires but a slight acquaintance 
 with the business of the world to see that mighty changes are at 
 hand, that property is almost nowhere quite secure." 
 
 "Of the business of the world I have no clear notion," interrupted 
 Wilhelm ; " and it is but of late that I ever thought about my prop-
 
 BOOK VIII. CHAPTER VIL 409 
 
 erty. Perhaps I had doue well to drive it out of my head still longer ; 
 the care of securing it appears to give us hypochondria." 
 
 " Hear me out," said Jaruo. " Care beseems ripe age, that youth 
 may live for a time free from care ; in tlie conduct of poor mortals, 
 equilibrium cannot be restored except by contraries. As matters go, 
 it is anything but prudent to have property in only one place, to com- 
 mit your money to a single spot ; and it is difficult again to guide it 
 well in many. We have therefore thought of something else. From 
 our old tower there is a society to issue, which must spread itself 
 through every quarter of the world, and to whicli members from 
 every quarter of the world shall be admissible. We shall insure a 
 competent subsistence to each other, in the single case of a revolu- 
 tion happening, which might drive any part of us entirely from their 
 possessions. I am now proceeding to America, to profit by the good 
 connections which our friend established while he stayed there. 
 The abbe means to go to Russia ; if you like to join us, you shall 
 have the choice of continuing in Germany to help Lothario, or of ac- 
 companying me. I conjecture you will choose the latter ; to take a 
 distant journey is extremely serviceable to a young man." 
 
 Wilhelm thought a moment, and replied : " The offer well deserves 
 consideration ; for ere long the word with me must be. The farther 
 oflE the better. You will let me know your plan, I hope, more per- 
 fectly. It is perhaps my ignorance of life that makes me think so ; 
 but such a combination seems to me to be attended with insuperable 
 difficulties." 
 
 "The most of which, till now, have been avoided," answered 
 Jarno, "by the circumstance, that we have been but few in number, 
 honorable, discreet, determined people, animated by a certain general 
 feeling, out of which alone the feeling proper for societies can spring." 
 
 " Aud if you speak me fair," said Friedrich, who hitherto had only 
 listened, " 1 too will go along with you." 
 
 Jarno shook his head. 
 
 " Well, what objections can you make?" cried Friedrich. " In a 
 new colony, young colonists will be required ; these I bring with me ; 
 merry colonists will also be required ; of these I make you certain. 
 Besides, I recollect a certain damsel, who is out of place on this side 
 of the water, the fair, soft-hearted Lydia. What is the poor thing 
 to do witlx her sorrow and mourning, unless she get an opportunity 
 to throw it to the bottom of the sea, unless some brave fellow take 
 her by the hand? You, my benefactor," .said he, turning towards 
 Wilhelm, " you have a taste for comforting forsaken persons ; what 
 withholds you now? Each of us might take his girl under his arm, 
 and trudge with Jarno." 
 
 This proposal struck Wilhelm offensively. He answered with 
 affected calmness : " I know not whether she is unengaged ; and as 
 in general I seem to be unfortunate in courtship, I shall hardly think 
 of making the attempt."
 
 410 MmSTEJR' 8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 "Brotlier Friedricli," said Natalia, "though thy own conduct is 
 so full of levity, it does not follow that such sentiments will answer 
 others. Our friend deserves a heart that shall belong to him alone, 
 that shall not at his side be moved by foreign recollections. It was 
 only with a character as pure and reasonable as Theresa's that such a 
 venture could be risked." 
 
 " Risk ! " cried Friedrich. " In love it is all risk. In the grove or 
 at the altar, with a clasp of the arms or a golden ring, by the chirp- 
 ing of the cricket or the sound of trumpets and kettledrums, it is all 
 but a risk ; chance does it all." 
 
 " I have often noticed," said Natalia, " that our principles are just 
 a supplement to our peculiar manner of existence. We delight to 
 clothe our errors in the garb of universal laws ; to attribute them 
 to irresistibly -appointed causes. Do but think, by what a path thy 
 dear will lead thee, now that she has drawn thee towards her, and 
 holds thee fast there." 
 
 "She herself is on a very pretty path," said Friedrich, "on the 
 path to saintship. A by-path, it is true, and somewhat roundabout ; 
 but the pleasanter and surer for that. Maria of Magdala traveled it, 
 and who can say how many more ? But on the whole, sister, when 
 tlie point in hand is love, thou shouldst not mingle in it. In my 
 opinion, thou wilt never marry, till a bride is lacking somewhere ; in 
 that case, thou wilt give thyself, with thy habitual charity, to be the 
 supplement of some peculiar manner of existence ; not otherwise. So 
 let us strike a bargain with this soul-broker, and agree about our 
 traveling company." 
 
 " You come too late with your proposals," answered Jarno ; " Lydia 
 is disposed of." ■'^ 
 
 " And how ? " cried Friedrich. 
 
 " I myself have offered her my hand," said Jarno. 
 
 " Old gentleman," said Friedrich, " you have done a feat to which, 
 if we regard it as a substantive, various adjectives might be appended ; 
 various predicates, if we regard it as a subject." 
 
 " I must honestly confess," replied Natalia," it appears a dan- 
 gerous experiment to make a helpmate of a woman, at the very 
 moment when her love for another man is like to drive her to 
 despair." 
 
 "I have ventured," answered Jarno; "under a certain stipula- 
 tion, she is to be mine. And believe me, there is nothing in the 
 world more precious than a heart susceptible of love and passion. 
 Whether it has loved, whether it still loves, are points which I 
 regard not. The love of which another is the object, charms me 
 almost more tlian that which is directed to myself. I see the strength, 
 the force of a tender soul, and my self-love does not trouble the 
 delightful vision." 
 
 " Have you talked with Lydia, then, of late?" inquired Natalia. 
 
 Jarno smiled and nodded : Natalia shook her head, and said as he
 
 BOOK VIII. CHAPTER VII. 411 
 
 rose : "I really know not what to make of you ; but me you shall 
 not mystify, I promise you." 
 
 She was about retiring, when the abb^ entered with a letter in his 
 hand. "Stay, if you please," said he to her: "I have a proposal 
 here, respecting which your counsel will be welcome. The marchese, 
 your late uncle's friend, whom for some time we have been expect- 
 ing, will be here in a day or two. He writes to me, that German is 
 not so familiar to him as he had supposed : that he needs a person 
 who possesses this and other languages to travel with him ; that as 
 he wishes to connect himself with scientific rather than political 
 society, he cannot do without some such interpreter. I can think of no 
 one better suited for the post than our young friend here. He knows 
 the language ; is acquainted with many things beside ; and for him- 
 self, it cannot but be advantageous to travel over Germany in such 
 society and such circumstances. Till we have seen our native coun- 
 try, we have no scale to judge of other countries by. What say you, 
 my friend ! What say you, Natalia ? " 
 
 Nobody objected to the scheme : Jarno seemed to think his trans- 
 atlantic project would not be a hindrance, as he did not mean to sail 
 directly. Natalia did not speak ; and Friedrich uttered various saws 
 about the uses of travel. 
 
 This new project so provoked our friend, that he could hardly con- 
 ceal his irritation. He saw, in this proposal, a concerted plan for 
 getting rid of him as soon as possible ; and what was worse, they 
 went so openly to work, and seemed so utterly regardless of his feel- 
 ings. The suspicions Lydia had excited in him, all that he himself 
 had witnessed, rose again upon his mind ; the simple manner in which 
 everything had been explained by Jarno, now appeared to him another 
 piece of artifice. 
 
 He constrained himself, and answered: "At all events, the offer 
 will require mature deliberation." 
 
 " A quick decision may perhaps be necessary," said the abb6. 
 
 " For that I am not prepared," answered .Wilhelm. " We can wait 
 till the marchese comes, and then observe if we agree together. One 
 condition must, howevei', be conceded first of all : that I take Felix 
 with me." 
 
 " This is a condition," said the abb6, " which will scarcely be con- 
 ceded." 
 
 " And I do not see," cried Wilhelm, " why I should let any man 
 prescribe conditions to me ; or why, if I choose to view my native 
 country, I must go in company with an Italian." 
 
 "Because a young man," said the abb6, with a certain imposing 
 earnestness, " is always called upon to form connections." 
 
 Wilhelm, feeling that he could not long retain his self-command, 
 as it was Natalia's presence only which in some degree assuaged his 
 indignation, hastily made answer : " Give me a little while to think. 
 I imagine it will not be very hard to settle whether I am called upon
 
 412 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 to form additional connections, or ordered irresistibly, by heart and 
 head, to free myself from such a multiplicity of bonds, which seem 
 to threaten me with a perpetual, miserable thraldom." 
 
 Thus he spoke, with a deeply-agitated mind. A glance at Natalia 
 somewhat calmed him : her form and dignity, in this impas- 
 sioned moment, stamped themselves more deeply on his mind than 
 ever. 
 
 "Yes," said he, so soon as he was by himself, "confess it, thou 
 lovest her ; thou once more feelest what it means to love with thy 
 whole soul. Tlius did 1 love Mariana, and deceive myself so dread- 
 fully ; I loved Pbilina, and could not help despising her. Aurelia I 
 respected, and could not love : Theresa I reverenced, and paternal 
 tenderness assumed the form of an affection for her. And now when 
 all the feelings that can make a mortal happy meet within my heart, 
 now I am compelled to fly ! Ah ! Avhy should these feelings and con- 
 victions be combined with an insuperable longing ? Why, without 
 the hope of its fulfillment, should they utterly subvert all other hap- 
 piness ? Shall the sun and the world, society or any other gift of 
 fortune, ever henceforth yield me pleasure ? Shalt thou not forever 
 say : Natalia is not liere ! And yet, alas, Natalia will be always pres- 
 ent to thee ! If thou closest thy eyes, she will appear to thee : if 
 thou openest them, her form will flit before all outward things, like 
 the image which a dazzling object leaves behind it in the eye. Did 
 not the swiftly passing figure of the Amazon dwell continually in 
 thy imagination ? And yet thou hadst but seen her, thou didst not 
 know her. Now, when thou knowest her, when thou hast been so 
 long beside her, when she has shown such care about thee ; now are 
 her qualities impressed as deeply upon thy soul, as her form was tlien 
 upon thy fancy. It is painful to be always seeking ; but far more 
 painful to have found, and to be forced to leave. What now shall I 
 ask for farther in the world ? What now shall I look for farther ? 
 Is there a country, a city that contains a treasure such as this ? And 
 I must travel on, and ever find inferiority ? Is life, then, like a race- 
 course, where a man must rapidly return, when he has reached the 
 utmost end ? Does the good, the excellent stand before ns like a firm 
 unmoving goal, from which with fleet horses we are forced away, the 
 instant we appeared to have attained it? Happier are they who strive 
 for earthly wares? They find what they are seeking in its proper cli- 
 mate, or they buy it in the fair. 
 
 " Come, my own boy !" cried he to Felix, who now ran frisking 
 towards him : "be thou, and remain thou, all to me! Thou wert 
 given me as a compensation for thy loved mother ; thou wert to 
 replace the second mother Avhom I meant for thee ; and now thou 
 hast a loss still greater to make good. Occupy my heart, occupy my 
 spirit with thy beauty, thy loveliness, thy capabilities, and thy desire 
 to use them ! " 
 
 The boy was busied with a new plaything : his father tried to put
 
 BOOK VIIL CHAPTER VII. 413 
 
 it in a better state for him ; just as he succeeded, Folix'had lost all 
 pleasure in it. "Thou art a true son of Adam !" cried Wilhelm. 
 " Come, my child ! Come, my brother ! let us wander, playing with- 
 out object, through the world, as we best may." 
 
 His resolution to remove, to take the boy along with him, and 
 recreate his mind by looking at the world, had now assumed a settled 
 form. lie wrote to Werner for the necessary cash and letters of 
 credit ; sending Friedrich's courier on the message, with the strictest 
 charges to return immediately. Much as the conduct of his other 
 friends had grieved him, his relation to Natalia remained serene and 
 clear as ever. 
 
 He confided to her his intention : she took it as a settled thing that 
 he would go ; and if this seeming carelessness in her chagrined him, 
 her kindly manner and her presence made him calm. She counseled 
 him to visit various towns, that he might get acquainted with certain 
 of her friends. The courier returned, and bi-ought the letter which 
 our friend required, though Werner did not seem content with this 
 new whim. " My hope that thou wert growing reasonable," so the 
 letter ran, "is now again deferred. Where are you all gadding? 
 And where lingers the lady who, thou saidst, was to assist us in 
 arranging these affairs ? Thy other friends also are absent ; they 
 have thrown the whole concern upon the shoulders of the lawyer and 
 myself. Happy that he is as expert a jurist as I am a financier ; and 
 that both of us are used to business. Fare thee well ! Thy aberra- 
 tions shall be pardoned thee ; since but for them, our situation here 
 could not have been so favorable." 
 
 So far as outward matters were concerned, Wilhelm might now 
 have entered on his journey ; but there were still, for his heart, two 
 hindrances that held him fast. In the first place, they flatly refused 
 to show him Mignon's body till the funeral the abbe meant to cele- 
 brate ; and for this solemnity the preparations were not ready. There 
 had also been a curious letter from the country clergyman, in conse- 
 quence of which the doctor had gone off. It related to the harper ; 
 of whose fate Wilhelm wanted to have farther information. 
 
 In these circumstances, day or night he found no rest for mind or 
 body. When all were asleep, he wandered up and down the house. 
 The presence of the pictures and statues, which he knew so well of 
 old, alternately attracted and repelled him. Nothing that surrounded 
 hira could he lay hold of or let go ; all things reminded him of all ; 
 the whole ring of his existence lay before liim ; but it was broken 
 into fragments, and seemed as if it would never unite again. These 
 works of art, which his father had sold, appeared to him an omen 
 that he himself was destined never to obtain a lasting, calm posses- 
 sion of anything desirable in life, or always to be robbed of it so soon 
 as gained, by his own or other people's blame. He waded so deep in 
 these strange and dreary meditations, that often he almost thought 
 himself a disembodied spirit ; and even when he felt and handled
 
 414 ME 1ST eh; S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 things without liim, he could scarcely keep himself from doubting 
 whether he was really there and alive. 
 
 Nothing but the piercing grief, which often seized him, but the 
 tears he shed at being forced, by causes frivolous as they were irre- 
 sistible, to leave the good which he had found, and found after having 
 lost it — restored him to the feeling of his earthly life. It was in vain 
 to call before his mind his happy state in other respects. "All is 
 nothing, then," exclaimed he, "if the one blessing, which appears to 
 us worth all the rest, is wanting ! " 
 
 The abbe told the company that the marchese was arrived. " You 
 have determined, it appears," said he to Wilhelm, "to set out upon 
 your travels with your boy alone. Get acquainted with this noble- 
 man, however ; he will be useful to you, if you meet him by the 
 way." The marchese entered: he was a person not yet very far 
 advanced in years ; a fine, handsome, pleasing Lombard figure. In 
 his youth, while in the army and afterwards in public business, he 
 had known Lothario's uncle ; they had subsequently traveled through 
 the greater part of Italy together ; and many of the works of art, 
 which the marchese now again fell in with, had been purchased in 
 his presence, and under various happy circumstances, which he still 
 distinctly recollected. 
 
 The Italians have in general a deeper feeling for the high dignity 
 of art than any other nation. In Italy, whoever follows the employ- 
 ment, tries to pass at once for artist, master and professor ; b}' which 
 pretensions he acknowledges, at least, that it is not sufiicient merely 
 to lay. hold of some transmitted excellency, or to acquire by practice 
 some dexterity ; but that a man who aims at art, should have the 
 power to think of what he does, to lay down principles, and make 
 apjjarent to himself and others how and wherefore he proceeds in this 
 way or in that. 
 
 The stranger was affected at again beholding these productions, 
 when the owner of them was no more ; and cheered to see the spirit 
 of his friend surviving in the gifted persons left behind him. Tliey 
 discussed a series of works ; they found a lively satisfaction in the 
 harmony of their ideas. The marchese and the abb6 were the speak- 
 ers. Natalia felt herself again transported to the presence of her 
 uncle, and could enter without difiiculiy into their opinions and criti- 
 cisms : Wilhelm could not understand them, except as he translated 
 their technology into dramatic language. Friedrich's facetious vein 
 was sometimes rather difficult to keep in check. Jarno was seldom 
 there. 
 
 It being observed that excellent works of art were very rare in 
 latter times, it was remarked by the marchese: "We can liardly 
 think or estimate how many circumstances must combine in favor of 
 the artist : with the greatest genius, with the most decisive talent, 
 the demands which he must make upon himself are infinite, the dili- 
 gence required in cultivating his endowments is unspeakable. Now,
 
 BOOK VIII. CHAPTER VIL 415 
 
 if circumstances are not in his favor ; if he observed that the world 
 is very easy to be satisfied, requiring but a slight, pleasing, transi- 
 tory show, it were matter of surprise if indolence and selfishness did 
 not keep him fixed at mediocrity ; it were strange if he did not 
 rather think of bartering modish wares for gold and praises, than of 
 entering on the proper path, which could not fail in some degree to 
 lead him to a sort of painful martyrdom. Accordingly, the artists of 
 our time are always offering and never giving. They always aim at 
 charming, and they never satisfy ; everything is merely indicated ; 
 you can nowhere find foundation or completion. Tliose for whom 
 they labor, it is true, are little better. If you wait a while in any 
 gallery of pictures, and observe what works attract the many, what 
 are praised and what neglected, you have little pleasure in the pres- 
 ent, little hope in the future." 
 
 "Yes," replied the abb6 ; "and thus it is that artists and their 
 judges mutually form each other. Tlie latter ask for nothing but a 
 general vague enjoyment, a work of art is to delight them almost as 
 a work of nature ; they imagine that the organs for enjoying may' 
 be cultivated altogether of themselves, like the tongue and' the pal- 
 ate ; they try a picture or a poem as they do an article of food. 
 They do not understand how very different a species of culture it 
 requires to raise one to the true enjoyment of art. The hardest part 
 of it, in my opinion, is that sort of separation which a man that aims 
 at perfect culture must accomplish in himself. It is on this account 
 that we observe so many people partially cultivated, and yet every 
 one of them attempting to pronounce upon the general whole." 
 
 "Your last remark is not quite clear to me," said Jarno, who came 
 in just then. 
 
 " It would be difficult," replied the abbe, " to explain it fully with- 
 out a long detail. Thus much I may say : When any man pretends 
 to mix in manifold activity or manifold enjoyment, he must also be 
 enabled, as it were, to make his organs manifold and independent of 
 each other. Whoever aims at doing or enjoying all and everything 
 with his entire nature ; whoever tries to link together all that is 
 without him by such a species of enjoyment will only lose his time 
 in efforts that can never be successful. How difficult, though it 
 seems so easy, is it to contemplate a noble disposition, a fine picture 
 simply in and for itself ; to watch the raitsic for the music's sake ; to 
 admire the actor in the actor ; to take pleasure in a building for 
 its own peculiar harmony and durability ! Most men are wont to 
 treat a work of art, though fixed and done, as if it were a piece of 
 soft clay. The hard and polished marble is again to mold itself, the 
 firm-walled edifice is to contract or to expand itself, according as 
 their inclinations, sentiments, and whims may dictate ; the picture 
 is to be instructive, the play to make us better, everything is to do 
 all. The reason is that most men are themselves unformed, they 
 cannot give themselves and their being any certain shape ; and thus
 
 416 MEISTER'S APPBENTIGESHIP. 
 
 tliey strive to take from other thiugs tlieir proper shape, that all 
 they have to do with may be loose and wavering like themselves. 
 Everything is, in the long run, reduced by them to what they call 
 effect ; everything is relative, say they ; and so, indeed, it is ; every- 
 thing with them grows relative, except absurdity and platitude, 
 which truly are absolute enough." 
 
 " I understand you," answered Jarno ; " or rather I perceive how 
 what you have been saying follows from the principles you hold so 
 fast by. Yet, with men, poor devils, we should not go to quest so 
 strictly. I know enough of them, in truth, who, beside the greatest 
 works of art and nature, forthwith recollect their own most paltry 
 insufficiency ; who take their conscience and their morals with them 
 to the opera : who bethink them of their loves and hatreds in con- 
 templating a colonnade. The best and greatest that can be pre- 
 sented to them from without, they must first, as far as possible, 
 diminish in their way of representing it, that they may in any meas- 
 ure be enabled to combine it with their own sorry nature," 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The abbe called them, in the evening, to attend the exequies of 
 Mignou. The company proceeded to the hall of the past ; they 
 found it magnificently ornamented and illuminated. The walls were 
 hung with azure tapestry almost from ceiling to floor, so that nothing 
 but the friezes and socles, above and below, were visible. On the 
 four candelabra in the corners, large wax-lights were burning ; 
 smaller lights were in the four smaller candelabra placed by the sar- 
 cophagus in the middle. Near this stood four boys, dressed in azure 
 with silver ; they had broad fans of ostrich feathers, which they 
 waved above a figure that was resting upon the sarcophagus. The 
 company sat down ; two invisible choruses began in a soft musical 
 recitative to ask : " Whom bring ye us to the still dwelling?" The 
 four boys replied with lovely voices : " 'Tis a tired playmate whom 
 we bring you ; let her rest in your still dwelling, till the songs of her 
 heavenly sisters once more awaken her." 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Firstling of youth in our circle, we welcome thee ! With sadness 
 welcome thee ! May no boy, no maiden follow ! Let age only, willing 
 and composed, approach the silent hall, and in the solemn company, 
 repose this one dear child ! 
 
 BOYS. 
 
 Ah, reluctantly we brought her hither ! Ah, and she is to remain 
 here ! Let us too remain ; let us weep, let us weep upon her bier !
 
 SBOOlL VIII. CHAPTEB VIII. 417 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Yet look at the strong wings ; look at the light clear robe ! How- 
 glitters the golden band upon her head ! Look at the beautiful, the 
 noble repose I 
 
 BOYS. 
 
 Ah ! the wings do not raise her ; in the frolic game, her robe flutters 
 to and fro no more ; when we bound her head with roses her looks on 
 us were kind and friendly. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Cast forward the eye of the spirit ! Awake in your souls the 
 imaginative power, which carries forth, what is fairest, what is high- 
 eet, life, away beyond the stars. 
 
 BOYS. 
 But ah ! we find her not here ; in the garden she wanders not ; the 
 flowers of the meadow she plucks no longer. Let us weep, we are 
 leaving her here ! Let us weep and remain with her I 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Children, turn back into life ! Your tears let the fresh air dry, 
 which plays upon the rushing water. Fly from night ! Day and 
 pleasure and continuance are the lot of the living. 
 
 BOYS. 
 Up ! Turn back into life ! Let the day give us labor and pleasure, 
 till the evening brings us rest, and the nightly sleep refreshes us. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Children ! Hasten into life ! In the pure garments of beauty, 
 may love meet you with heavenly looks and with the wreath of im- 
 mortality I 
 
 The boys had retired ; the abbe rose from his seat, and went behind 
 the bier. "It is the appointment," said he, " of the man who pre- 
 pared this silent abode, that each new tenant of it .shall be introduced 
 with a solemnity. After him, the builder of this mansion, the 
 founder of this establishment, we have next brought a young stranger 
 hither : and thus already does this little space contain two altogether 
 different victims of the rigorous, arbitrary, and inexorable deatli- 
 goddess. By appointed laws we enter into life ; the days are num- 
 bered which make us ripe to see the light ; but for the duration of 
 Aur life there is no law. The weakest thread will spin itself to unex- 
 pected length ; and the strongest is cut suddenly asunder by the 
 scissors of the fates, delighting, as it seems, in contradictions. Of the 
 child, whom we have here committed to her final rest, we can say but 
 little. It is still uncertain whence she came ; her parents we know 
 not ; the years of her life we can only conjecture. Her deep and 
 Meister — 14
 
 m MEISTER'S APPRENTWESHlP. 
 
 closely shrouded soul allowed us scarce to guess at its interior move- 
 ments : there was nothing clear in her, nothing open but her affection 
 for the man, who had snatched her from the hands of a barbarian. 
 This impassioned tenderness, this vivid gratitude, appeared to be the 
 tiame which consumed the oil of her life : the skill of the physician 
 could not save that fair life, the most anxious friendship could not 
 lengthen it. But if art could not stay the departing spirit, it has 
 done its utmost to preserve the body, and withdraw it from decay. A 
 balsamic substance has been forced through all the veins, and now 
 tinges, in place of blood, these cheeks too early faded. Come near, 
 my friends, and view this wonder of art and care ! " 
 
 He raised the veil : the child was lying in her angel's dress, as if 
 asleep, in the most soft and graceful posture. They approached, and 
 admired this show of life. Wilhelm alone continued sitting in his 
 place : he was not able to compose himself ; what he felt he durst 
 not think ; and every thought seemed ready to destroy his feeling. 
 
 For the sake of the niarchese, the speech had been pronounced in 
 French. That nobleman came forward with the rest, and viewed the 
 figure with attention. The abbe thus proceeded : " With a holy con- 
 fidence, this kind heart, shut up to men, was continually turned to its 
 God. Humility, nay, au inclination to abase herself externally, seemed 
 natural to her. She clave with zeal to the Catholic religion, in which 
 she had been born and educated. Often she expressed a still wish to 
 sleep on consecrated ground ; and according to the usage of the 
 church, we have tlierefore consecrated this marble coffin, and the 
 little earth which is hidden in the cushion that supports her head. 
 With what ardor did she in her last moments kiss the image of the 
 Crucified, which stood beautifull}" figured on her tender arm, with 
 many hundred points ! " So saying, he stripped up her right sleeve ; 
 and a crucifix, with marks and letters round it, showed itself in blue 
 upon the white skin. 
 
 The marchese looked at this with eagerness, stooping down to view 
 it more intensely. "O God!" cried he, as he stood upright, and 
 raised his hands to heaven. "Poor child ! Unhappy niece ! Do I 
 meet thee here ! What a painful joy to find thee, whom we had long 
 lost hope of ; to find this dear frame, which we had long believed the 
 prey of fishes in the ocean, here preserved, though lifeless ! I assist 
 at thy funeral, splendid in its external circumstances, still more 
 splendid from the noble persons who attend thee to thy place of rest. 
 And to these," added he with a faltering voice, "so soon as I can 
 speak, I will express my thanks." 
 
 Tears hindered him from saying more. By the pressure of a spring, 
 the abbe sank the body into the cavity of the marble. Four youths, 
 dressed as the boys had been, came out from behind the tapestry ; and 
 lifting the heavy, beautifully ornamented lid of the coffin, thus began 
 their song :
 
 BOOK rill CHAPTER IX. 419 
 
 THE YOUTHS. 
 
 Well is the treasure now laid up ; the fair image of the past ! Here 
 sleeps it in the marble, uudecaying ; in your hearts too it lives, it 
 works. Travel, travel, back into life ! Take along with you this 
 holy earnestness ; — for earnestness alone makes life eternity. 
 
 The invisible chorus joined in with the last words ; but no one 
 heard the strengthening sentiment ; all were too much busied with 
 themselves, and the emotions which these wonderful disclosures had 
 excited. The abb^ and Natalia conducted the marchese out ; Theresa 
 and Lothario walked by Wilhelm. It was not till the music had 
 altogether died away, that their sorrows, thoughts, meditations, curi- 
 osity again fell on them with all their force, and made them long to 
 be transported back into that exalting scene. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The marchese avoided speaking of the matter ; but had long secret 
 conversations with the abb^. When the company was met he often 
 asked for music ; a request to which they willingly assented, as each 
 was glad to be delivered from the charge of talking. Thus they lived 
 for some time, till it was observed that he was making preparations 
 for departure. One day he observed to Wilhelm : " I wish not to dis- 
 turb the remains of this beloved child ; let her rest in the place where 
 she loved and suffered ; but her friends must promise to visit me in 
 her native country ; in the scene where she was born and bred ; they 
 must see the pillars and statues, of which a dim idea remained with 
 her. I will lead you to the bays, where she liked so well to roam 
 and gather pebbles. You, at least, young friend, shall not escape the 
 gratitude of a family that stands so deeply indebted to you. To- 
 morrow I set out on my journey. The abb6 is acquainted with the 
 whole history of this matter : he will tell it you again. He could 
 pardon me when grief interrupted my recital ; as a third party he 
 will be enabled to narrate the incidents with more connection. If, as 
 the abbe had proposed, you like to follow me in traveling over Ger- 
 many, you shall be heartily welcome. Leave not your boy behind : 
 at every little inconvenience which he causes us, we will again re- 
 member your attentive care of my poor niece." 
 
 The same evening, our party was surprised by the arrival of the 
 countess. Wilhelm trembled in every joint as she entered : she her- 
 self, though forewarned, kept close by her sister, who speedily reached 
 her a chair. How singularly simple was her attire, how altered was 
 her form ! Wilhelm scarcely dared to look at her : she saluted him 
 with a kindly air : a few general words addressed to him did not con-
 
 420 MEISTER'S APPBENTICE8EIP. 
 
 ceal her sentiments and feelings. The marchese had retired betimes ; 
 and as the company were not disposed to part so early, the abbe now 
 produced a manuscript. " The singular narrative which was intrusted 
 to me," said he, " I forthwith put on paper. The case where pen and 
 ink should least of all be spared, is in recording the particular circum- 
 stances of remarkable events." They informed the countess of the 
 matter ; and the abb6 read as follows, in the name of the marchese : 
 ' ' Many men as I have seen, I still regard my father as a very extra- 
 ordinary person. His character was noble and upright ; his ideas 
 were enlarged, I may even say great ; to himself he was severe ; in 
 all his plans there was a rigid order, in all his operations an unbroken 
 perseverance. In one sense, therefore, it was easy to transact and 
 live with him : yet owing to the very qualities which made it so, he 
 never could accommodate himself to life ; for he required from the 
 state, from his neighbors, from his children and his servants, the 
 observance of all the laws which he had laid upon himself. His most 
 moderate demands became exorbitant by his rigor : and he never could 
 attain to enjoyment, for nothing ever was completed as he had fore- 
 cast it. At the moment when he was erecting a palace, laying out 
 a garden, or acquiring a large estate in the highest cultivation, I have 
 seen him inwardly convinced, with the sternest ire, that fate had 
 doomed him to do nothing but abstain and suffer. In his exterior, he 
 maintained the greatest dignity ; if he jested, it was but displaying 
 the preponderancy of his understanding. Censure was intolerable 
 to him ; the only time I ever saw him quite transported with rage, 
 was once when he heard that one of his establishments was spoken of 
 as something ludicrous. In the same spirit, he had settled the disposal 
 of liis children and his fortunje. My eldest brother was educated as a 
 person that had large estates to look for. I was to embrace the cleri- 
 cal profession ; the youngest was to be a soldier. I was of a lively 
 temper : fiery, active, quick, apt for corporeal exercises : the youngest 
 rather seemed inclined to an enthusiastic quietism ; devoted to the 
 sciences, to music and poetry. It was not till after the hardest strug- 
 gle, the maturest conviction of the impossibility of his project, that 
 our father, still reluctantly, agreed to let us change vocations ; and 
 although he saw us both contented, lie could never suit himself to 
 this arrangement, but declared that nothing good would come of it. 
 The older he grew the more isolated did he feel himself from all 
 society. At last he came to live almost entirely alone. One old friend, 
 who had served in the German armies, who had lost his wife in the 
 campaign, and brought a daughter of about ten years of age along 
 with him, remained his only visitor. This person bought a fine little 
 property beside us : he used to come and see my father on stated days 
 of the week, and at stated hours ; his little daughter often came along 
 with him. He was never heard to contradict my father ; who at length 
 grew perfectly habituated to him, and endured him as the only toler- 
 able company he had. After our father's death, we easily observed
 
 BOOK VIII. CHAPTER IX. 421 
 
 that this old gentleman had not been visiting for naught, that his com- 
 pliances had been rewarded by an ample settlement. He enlarged 
 his estates ; his daughter might expect a handsome portion. The 
 girl grew up, and was extremely beautiful ; my elder brother often 
 joked with me about her, saying I should go and court her. 
 
 "Meanwhile brother Augustin, in the seclusion of his cloister, had 
 been spending his years in the strangest state of mind. He aban- 
 doned hiuiself wholly to the feeling of a holy enthusiasm, to those 
 half-spiritual, half-physical emotions, which, as they for a time ex- 
 alted him to the third heaven, ere long sank him down to an abyss of 
 powerlessness and vacant misery. While my father lived, no change 
 could be contemplated : what indeed could we have asked for or pro- 
 posed ? After the old man's death, our brother visited us frequently : 
 his situation, which at first afflicted us, in time became much more 
 tolerable : for his reason had at length prevailed. But the more con- 
 fidently reason promised him complete recovery and contentment on 
 the pure part of nature, the more vehemently did he require of us to 
 free him from his vows. His thoughts, he let us know, were turned 
 upon Sperata, our fair neighbor. 
 
 '■ My elder brother had experienced too much suffering from the 
 harshness of our father, to look on the condition of the youngest 
 without sympathy. We spoke with the family professor, a worthy 
 old man ; we signified to him the double purpose of our brother, and 
 requested him to introduce and expedite the business. Contrary to 
 custom, he delayed ; and at last, when Augustin pressed us, and we 
 recommended the affair more keenly to the clergyman, he had noth- 
 ing left but to impart the strange secret to us. 
 
 " Sperata was our sister, and that by both her parents. Our mother 
 had declared herself with child at a tin^e when both she and our father 
 were advanced in years ; a similar occurrence had shortly before been 
 made the stibject of some merriment in our neighborhood ; and our 
 father to avoid such ridicule, determined to conceal this late lawful 
 fruit of love as carefully as people used to conceal its earlier acci- 
 dental fruits. Our mother was delivered secretly ; the child was 
 carried to the country, and the old friend of the family, who, with 
 the confessor, had alone been trusted with the secret, easily engaged 
 to give her out for his daughter. The confessor had reserved the 
 right of disclosing the secret in case of extremity. The supposed 
 father was now dead ; Sperata was living with an old lady ; we were 
 aware that a love of song and music had already led our brother to 
 her ; and ou his again requiring us to undo his former bond, that he 
 might engage himself by a new one, it was necessary that we should, 
 as soon as possible, apprise him of the danger he stood in. 
 
 ' ' He viewed us with a wild, contemptuous look. ' Spare your idle 
 tales,' cried he, ' for children and credulous fools ; from me, from my 
 heart, they shall not tear Sperata ; she is mine. Recall, I pray you, 
 instantly, your frightful specter, which would but harass me in vain.
 
 422 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 Sperata is not my sister ; she is my wife ! ' He described to us, in 
 rapturous terms, how this heavenly girl had drawn him out of his 
 unnatural state of separation from his fellow-creatures into true life ; 
 how their spirits accorded like their voices ; hbw he blessed his suf- 
 ferings and errors, since they had kept clear of women, till the moment 
 when he wholly and forever gave himself to this most amiable being. 
 We were shocked at the discovery, we deplored his situation, but we 
 knew not how to help ourselves, for he declared, with violence, that 
 Sperata had a child by him within her bosom. Our confessor did 
 whatever duty could suggest to him, but by this means he only made 
 the evil worse. The relations of nature and religion, moral rights 
 and civil laws, were vehemently attacked and spurned at by our 
 brother. He considered nothing holy but his relation to Sperata ; 
 nothing dignified but the name of father and wife. ' These alone,' 
 cried he, ' are suitable to nature ; all else is caprice and opinion. 
 Were there not noble nations which admitted marriage with a sister ? 
 Name not your gods ! You never name them but when you wish to 
 befool us, to lead us from the paths of nature, and, by scandalous 
 constraint, to transform the noblest inclinations into crimes. Unspeak- 
 able are the perplexities, abominable the abuses into which you force 
 the victims whom you bury alive. 
 
 " ' I may speak, for I have suffered like no other ; from the high- 
 est, sweetest feeling of enthusiasm, to the frightful deserts of utter 
 powerlessness, vacancy, annihilation and despair ; from the loftiest 
 aspirations of preternatural existence, to the most entire unbelief, 
 unbelief in myself. All these horrid grounds of the cup, so flatter- 
 ing at the brim, I have drained ; and my whole being was poisoned 
 to its core. And now, when kind Nature, by her greatest gift, by 
 love, has healed me ; now, when in the arms of a heavenly creature, 
 I again feel that I am, that she is, that out of this living union a third 
 shall arise and smile in our faces ; now ye open up the flames of your 
 hell, of your purgatory, which can only singe a sick imagination ; ye 
 oppose them to the vivid, true, indestructible enjoyment of pure love ! 
 Meet us under these cypresses, which turn their solemn tops to 
 heaven ; visit us among those espaliers where the citrons and pome- 
 gi'anates bloom beside us, where the graceful myrtle stretches out its 
 tender flowers to us ; and then venture to disturb us with your dreary, 
 paltry nets which men have spun ! ' 
 
 " Thus for a long time he persisted in a stubborn disbelief of our 
 story ; and when we assured him of its truth, when the confessor 
 himself asseverated it, he did not let it drive him from his point. 
 ' Ask not the echoes of your cloisters, not your moldering parch- 
 ments, not your narrow whims and ordinances ! Ask Nature and 
 your heart ; she will teach you what you should recoil from ; she 
 will point out to you with the strictest finger, over what she has pro- 
 nounced her everlasting curse. Look at the lilies ; do not husband 
 and wife shoot forth on the same stalk ? Does not the flower, which
 
 BOOK nil. CHAPTER IX. 423 
 
 bore them, hold them both ? And is not the lily the type of inno- 
 cence ; is not their sisterly union fruitful ? When Nature abhors, 
 she speaks it aloud ; the creature that shall not be is not produced ; 
 the creature that lives with a false life is soon destroyed. Unfruit- 
 fulness, painful existence, early destruction, these are her curses, the 
 marks of her displeasure. It is only by immediate consequences that 
 she punishes. Look around you ; and what is prohibited, what is 
 accursed, will force itself upon your notice. In the silence of the 
 convent, in the tumult of the world, a thousand practices are conse- 
 crated and revered, while her curse rests on them. On stagnant idle- 
 ness as on overstrained toil, on caprice and superfluity as on constraint 
 and want, she looks down with mournful eyes ; her call is to moder- 
 ation ; true are all her commandments, peaceful all her influences. 
 The man who has suffered as I have done has a right to be free. 
 Sperata is mine ; death alone shall take her from me. How I shall 
 retain her, how I may be happy, these are your cares ! This instant 
 I go to her, and part from her no more.' 
 
 " He was for proceeding to the boat, and crossing over to her ; we 
 restrained him, entreating that he would not take a step, which might 
 produce the most tremendous consequences. He should recollect, we 
 told him, that he was not living in the free world of his own thoughts 
 and ideas ; but in a constitution of affairs, whose ordinances and rela- 
 tions had become inflexible as laws of nature. The confessor made 
 us promise not to let him leave our sight, still less our house ; after 
 this he went away, engaging to return ere long. What we had fore- 
 seen took place ; reason had made our brother strong, but his heart 
 was weak ; the earlier impressions of religion rose on him, and dread- 
 ful doubts along with them. He passed two fearful niglits and days ; 
 the confessor came again to his assistance, but in vain ! His enfran- 
 chised understanding acquitted him ; his feelings, religion, all his 
 usual ideas declared him guilty. 
 
 "One morning we found his chamber empty; on the table lay a 
 note, in which he signified that, as we kept him prisoner by force, he 
 felt liimself entitled to provide for his freedom ; that he meant to go 
 directly to Sperata ; he expected to escape with her, and was pre- 
 pared for the most terrible extremities, should any separation be 
 attempted. 
 
 " The news of course aflfrighted us exceedingly ; but the confessor 
 bade us be at rest. Our poor brother had been narrowly enough ob- 
 served ; the boatman, in place of taking him across, proceeded with 
 him to liis cloister. Fatigued with watching for the space of four- 
 and-twenty hours, he fell asleep, as the skiff began to rock him in 
 the moonshine ; and he did not awake, till he saw himself in the 
 hands of his spiritual brethren ; he did not recover from his amaze- 
 ment, till he heard the doors of the convent bolting behind him. 
 
 " Sharply touched at the fate of our brother, we reproached the 
 confessor for his cruelty ; but he soon silenced or convinced us by
 
 424 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 the surgeon's reason, that our pity was destructive to the patient. 
 He let us know that he was not acting on his own authority, but by 
 order of the bishop and his chapter ; that by this proceeding they 
 intended to avoid all public scandal, and to shroud the sad occurrence 
 under the veil of a secret course of discipline prescribed by the 
 church. Our sister they would spare ; she was not to be told that 
 her lover was her brother. The charge of her was given to a priest, 
 to whom she had before disclosed her situation. They contrived to 
 hide her pregnancy and her delivery. As a mother she felt altogether 
 happy in her little one. Like most of our women, she could neither 
 write, nor read writing ; she gave the priest many verbal messages 
 to carry to her lover. The latter, thinking that he owed this pious 
 fraud to a suckling mother, often brought pretended tidings from our 
 brother, whom he never saw ; recommending her, in his name, to be 
 at peace ; begging of her to be careful of herself and of her child ; 
 and for the rest to trust in God. 
 
 " Sperata was inclined by nature to religious feelings. Her situa- 
 tion, her solitude increased this tendency ; the clergyman encour- 
 aged it, in order to prepare her by degrees for an eternal separation. 
 Scarcely was her child weaned, scarcely did he tliink her body strong 
 enough for suffering agony of mind, when he began to paint her 
 fault to her in most terrific colors, to treat the crime of being con- 
 nected with a priest as a sort of sin against nature, as a sort of incest. 
 For he had taken up the strange thought of making her repentance 
 equal in intensity to what it would have been, had she known the 
 true circumstances of her error. He thereby produced so much anx- 
 iety and sorrow in her mind ; he so exalted the idea of the church 
 and of its head before her ; showed her the awful consequences, for 
 the weal of all men's souls, should indulgence in a case like this be 
 granted, and the guilty pair rewarded by a lawful union ; signifying 
 too how wholesome it was to expiate such sins in time, and thereby 
 gain the crown of immortality — that at last, like a poor criminal, she 
 willingly held out her neck to the axe, and earnestly entreated that 
 she might forever be divided from our brother. Having gained so 
 much, the clergy left her the liberty (reserving to themselves a certain 
 distant oversight) to live at one time in a convent, at another in her 
 house, according as she afterwards thought good. 
 
 " Her little girl meanwhile was growing : from her earliest years 
 she had displayed an extraordinary disposition. When still very young 
 she could run, and move with wonderful dexterity ; she sang beau- 
 tifully, and learned to play upon the cithern almost of herseW. With 
 words, however, she could not express herself ; and the impediment 
 seemed rather to proceed from her mode of thought, than from her 
 organs of speech. The feelings of the poor mother to her, in the 
 meantime, were of the most painful kind ; the expostulations of the 
 priest had so perplexed her mind, that though she was not quite 
 deranged, her state wasifar from liping sane. She daily thought her
 
 BOOK VIII. CHAPTER IX. 425 
 
 crime more terrible and punishable ; the clergyman's comparison of 
 incest, frequently repeated, had impressed itself so deeply, that her 
 horror was not less than if the actual circumstances had been known 
 to her. The priest took no small credit for his ingenuity, with 
 which he had contrived to tear asunder a luckless creature's heart. 
 It was miserable to behold maternal love, ready to expand itself in 
 joy at the existence of her child, contending with the horrid feeling 
 that this child should not be there. The two emotions strove to- 
 gether in her soul ; love was often weaker than aversion. 
 
 " The child had long ago been taken from her, and committed to a 
 worthy family residing on the seashore. In the greater freedom, 
 which the little creature enjoyed here, she soon displayed her singu- 
 lar delight in climbing. To mount the highest peaks, to run along 
 the edges of the ships, to imitate in all their strangest feats the rope- 
 dancers, whom she often saw in the place, seemed a natural tendency 
 in her. 
 
 " To practice these things with the greater ease, she liked to 
 change clothes with boys : and though her foster parents thought 
 this highly blamable and unbecoming, we bade them indulge her 
 as much as possible. Her wild walks and leapings often led her to 
 a distance ; she would lose her way, and be long from home, but she 
 always came back. In general, as she returned, she used to set her- 
 self beneath the columns in the portal of a country house in the 
 neighborhood : her people had now ceased to look for her ; they 
 waited for her. She would tliere lie resting on the steps ; and then 
 run up and down the large hall, looking at the statues ; after which, 
 if nothing specially detained her, she used to hasten home. 
 
 "But at last our confidence was balked, and our indulgence pun- 
 ished. The child went out, and did not come again : her little hat 
 was found swimming on the water, near the spot where a torrent 
 rushes down into the sea. It was conjectured that, in clambering 
 among the rocks, her foot had slipped ; all our searching could not 
 find the body. 
 
 "The thoughtless tattle of her housemates soon communicated 
 the occurrence to Sperata ; she seemed calm and cheerful when she 
 heard it ; hinting not obscurely at her satisfaction that God had 
 pleased to take her poor child to himself, and thus preserved it from 
 suffering or causing some more dreadful misery. 
 
 " On this occasion, all the fables which are told about our waters 
 came to be the common talk The sea, it was said, required every 
 year an innocent child : yet it would endure no corpse, but sooner or 
 later threw it to the shore ; nay, the last joint, though sunk to the 
 lowest bottom, must again come forth. They told the story of a 
 mother, inconsolable because her child had perished in the sea, who 
 prayed to God and his saints to grant her at least the bones for 
 burial. The first storm threw ashore the skull, the next the spine ; 
 and after all was gathered, she wrapped the bones in a cloth, and
 
 426 MEISTEB'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 took them to the church : but ! miraculous to tell ! as she crossed 
 the threshold of the temple, the packet grew heavier and heavier, 
 and at last when she laid it on the steps of the altar, the child began 
 to cry, and issued living from the cloth. One joint of the right-hand 
 little finger was alone wanting : this too the mother anxiously sought 
 and found ; and in memory of the event it was preserved among the 
 other relics of the church. 
 
 ' ' On poor Sperata these recitals made a deep impression : her im- 
 agination took a new flight, and favored the emotion of her heart. 
 She supposed that now the child had expiated, by its death, both its 
 own sins, and the sins of its parents ; that the curse and penalty, 
 which hitherto had overhung them all, was at length wholly re- 
 moved ; that nothing more was necessary, could she only find the 
 child's bones, that she might carry them to Rome, where upon the 
 steps of the great altar in St. Peter's, her little girl, again covered 
 with its fair fresh skin, would stand up alive before the people. 
 With its own eyes it would once more look on father and mother ; 
 and the Pope, convinced that God and his saints commanded it, would, 
 amid the acclamations of the people, remit the parents their sins, 
 acquit them of their oaths, and join their hands in wedlock. 
 
 " Her looks and her anxiety were henceforth constantly directed to 
 the sea and the beach. When, at night in the moonshine, the waves 
 were tossing to and fro, she thought every glittering sheet of foam 
 was bringing out her child ; and some one about her had to run oflE, 
 as if to take it up when it should reach the shore. 
 
 " By day she walked unwearidly along the places where the pebbly 
 beach shelved slowly to the water ; she gathered, in a little basket, 
 all the bones Avhich she could find. None durst tell her they we^re 
 the bones of animals ; the larger ones she buried, the little ones she 
 took along with her. In this employment she incessantly persisted. 
 The clergyman, who, by so unremittingly discharging what he thought 
 his duty, had reduced her to this condition, now stood up for her with 
 all his might. By his influence, the people in the neighborhood were 
 made to look upon her not as a distracted person, but as one entranced ; 
 they stood in reverent attitudes as she Walked by, and the children 
 ran to kiss her hand. 
 
 " To the old woman, her attendant and faithful friend, the secret 
 of Sperata's guilt was at length imparted by the priest, on her 
 solemnly engaging to watch over the unhappy creature with untiring 
 care, through all her life. And she kept this engagement to the last, 
 with admirable conscientiousness and patience. 
 
 " Meanwhile we had always had an eye upon our brother. Neither 
 the physicians nor the clergy of his convent would allow us to be seen 
 by him ; but, in order to convince us of his being well in some sort, 
 we had leave to look at him as often as we liked, in the garden, the 
 passages, or even through a window in the roof of his apartment. 
 
 "After many terrible and singular changes, which I shall omit, he
 
 BOOK YIIL CHAPTER IX. m 
 
 liad passed into a strange state of mental rest and bodily unrest. He 
 never sat but when he took his harp and played upon it, and then 
 ne usually accompanied it with singing. At other times, he kept 
 continually in motion ; and in all things he was grown extremely guid- 
 able and pliant, for all his passions seemed to have resolved them- 
 selves into the single fear of death. You could persuade him to do 
 anything, by threatening him with dangerous sickness or with death. 
 
 " Besides this singularity of walking constantly about the cloister, 
 a practice which he hinted it were better to exchange for wandering 
 over hill and dale, he talked about an apparition which perpetually 
 tormented him. He declared that on awakening, at whatever hour 
 of the night, he saw a beautiful boy standing at the foot of his bed, 
 with a bare knife, and threatening to destroy him. They .shifted him 
 to various other chambers of the convent ; but he still asserted that 
 the boy pursued him. His wandering to and fro became more unrest- 
 ful ; the people afterwards remembered too, that at this time they 
 had often seen him standing at the window looking out upon the 
 sea. 
 
 " Our poor sister, on the other hand, seemed gradually wasting 
 under the consuming influence of her single thought, of her narrow 
 occupation. It was at last proposed by the physician, that among 
 the bones which she had gathered, the fragments of a child's skeleton 
 should by degrees be introduced ; and so the hapless mother's hopes 
 kept up. The experiment was dubious ; but this at least seemed likely 
 to be gained by it, that when all the parts were got together, she 
 would cease her weary search, and might be entertained with hopes 
 of going to Rome. 
 
 " It was accordingly res&lved on ; her attendant changed, by im- 
 perceptible degrees, the small remains committed to her with the 
 bones Sperata found. An inconceivable delight arose in the poor sick 
 woman's heart, when the parts began to fit each other, and the shape 
 of those still wanting could be marked. She had fastened every 
 fragment in its proper place with threads and ribbons ; filling up the 
 vacant spaces with embroidery and silk, as is usually done with the 
 relics of saints. 
 
 " In this way nearly all the bones had been collected ; none but a 
 few of the extremities were wanting. One morning, while she was 
 asleep, the physician having come to ask for her, the old attendant, 
 with a view to show him how his patient occupied herself, took away 
 these dear remains from the little chest where they lay in poor Sperata's 
 bedroom. A few minutes afterwards, they heard her spring upon 
 the floor ; she lifted up the cloth and found the chest empty. She 
 threw herself upon her knees ; they came and listened to her joyful, 
 ardent prayer. ' Yes ! ' exclaimed she, ' it is true : it was no dream, 
 it is real ! Rejoice with me, my friends ! I have seen my own beau- 
 tiful good little girl again alive. She arose and threw the veil from 
 off her ; her splendor enlightened all the room ; her beauty was trans-
 
 428 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 figured to celestial loveliness ; slie could not tread tlie ground, although 
 she wished. Lightly was she borne aloft ; she had not even time to 
 stretch her hand to me. There! cried she to me, and pointed to the 
 road where I am soon to go. Yes, I will follow her, soon follow her ; 
 my heart is light to think of it. My sorrows are already vanished ; 
 the sight of my risen little one has given me a foretaste of the heav- 
 enly joys.' 
 
 ' ' From that time her soul was wholly occupied with prospects of the 
 brightest kind : she gave no farther heed to any earthly object ; she 
 took but little food ; her spirits by degrees cast off the fetters of the 
 body. At last this imperceptible gradation reached its head unex- 
 pectedly : her attendants found her pale and motionless ; she opened 
 not her eyes ; she was what we call dead. 
 
 " The report of her vision quickly spread abroad among the people, 
 and the reverential feeling, which she had excited in her lifetime, 
 soon changed, at her death, to the thought that she should be regarded 
 as in bliss, nay, as in sanctity. 
 
 " When we were bearing her to be interred, a crowd of persons 
 pressed with boundless violence about the bier ; they would touch 
 her hand ; they would touch her garment. In this impassioned ele- 
 vation, various sick persons ceased to feel the pains by which at other 
 times they were tormented ; they looked upon themselves as healed ; 
 they declared it, they praised God and his new saint. The clergy 
 were obliged to lay the body in a neighboring chapel ; the people 
 called for opportunity to offer their devotion. The concourse was 
 incredible : the mountaineers, at all times prone to lively and relig- 
 ious feelings, crowded forward from their valleys ; the reverence, the 
 wonder, the adoration daily spread and gathered strength. The ordi- 
 nances of the bishop, which were meant to limit, and in time abolish 
 this new worship, could not be put into execution : every show of 
 opposition raised the people into tumults ; every unbeliever they were 
 ready to assail with personal violence. ' Did not Saint Borromaeus,' 
 cried they, ' dwell among our forefathers ? Did not his mother live 
 to taste the joy of his canonization? Was not that great figure on 
 the rocks at Arona meant to represent to us, by a sensible symbol, his 
 spiritual greatness ? Do not the descendants of his kindred live 
 among us to this hour ? And has not God promised ever to renew 
 his miracles among a people that believe? ' 
 
 " As the body, after several days, exhibited no marks of putrefac- 
 tion, but grew whiter, and, as it were, translucent, the general faith 
 rose higher and higher. Among the multitude were several cures, 
 which even the skeptical observer was unable to account for, or asci'ibe 
 entirely to fraud. The whole country was in motion ; those who did 
 not go to see it, heard at least no other topic talked of. 
 
 " The convent, where my brother lived, resounded, like the land 
 at large, with the noise of these wonders ; and the people felt the 
 less restraint in speaking of them in his presence, as in general he
 
 BOOK VIII. CHAPTER X. 429 
 
 Seemed to pay no heed to anything, and his connection with the cir- 
 cumstance was known to none of them. But on this occasion, it 
 appeared, he had listened with attention. He conducted his escape 
 with such dexterity and cunning, that the manner of it still remains a 
 mystery. We learned afterwards, that he had crossed the water with 
 a number of travelers ; and charged the boatmen, who observed no 
 other singularity about him, above all to have a care lest their vessel 
 overset. Late in the night he reached the chapel, where his hapless 
 loved one was resting from her woes. Only a few devotees were 
 kneeling in the corners of the place ; her old friend was sitting at 
 the head of the corpse ; he walked up to her, saluted her, and asked 
 how her mistress was. ' You see it,' answered she with some embar- 
 rassment. He looked at the corpse with a sidelong glance. After 
 some delay he took its hand. Frightened by its coldness, he in the 
 instant let it go : he looked unrestfully around him ; then turning to 
 the old attendant : ' I cannot stay with her at present,' said he ; 'I 
 have a long, long way to travel ; but at the proper time I shall be 
 back : tell her so when she awakens.' 
 
 " With this he went away. It was a while before we got intelli- 
 gence of these occurrences : we searched, but all our efforts to discover 
 him were vain. How he worked his way across the mountains, none 
 can say. A long time after he was gone, we came upon a trace of 
 him among the Orisons ; but we were too late ; it quickly vanished. 
 We supposed that he was gone to Germany ; but his weak footprints 
 had been speedily obliterated by the war." 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The abb6 ceased to read : no one had listened without tears. The 
 countess scarcely ever took her handkerchief from her eyes ; at last 
 she rose, and, with Natalia, left the room. The rest were silent, till 
 the abb6 thus began : "The question now arises, whether we shall 
 let the good marchese leave us without telling him our secret. For 
 who can doubt a moment, that our harper and his br/)ther Augustin 
 are one ? Let us consider what is to be done ; both for the sake of 
 that unhappy man himself, and of his family. My advice is, not to 
 hurry, but to wait till we have heard what news the doctor, who is 
 gone to see him, brings us back." 
 
 All were of the same opinion ; and the abb6 thus proceeded : 
 "Another question, which perhaps may be disposed of sooner, still 
 remains. The marchese is affected to the bottom of his heart, at the 
 kindness which his poor niece experienced here, particularly from our 
 young friend. He made me tell him, and repeat to him every circum- 
 stance connected with her ; and he showed the liveliest gratitude on
 
 Ano MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 hearing it. ' Her young benefactor,' lie said, ' refused to travel witli 
 ine, wliile he knew not the connection that subsists between us. I am 
 not now a stranger, of whose manner of existence, of whose humors 
 he might be uncertain : I am his associate, his relation ; and as his 
 unwillingness to leave his boy behind was the impediment which kept 
 him from accompanying me, let this child now become a fairer bond 
 to join us still more closely. Besides the services which I already 
 owe him, let him be of service to me on my present journey ; let him 
 then return along with me ; my elder brother will receive him as he 
 ought. And let him not despise the heritage of his unhappy foster- 
 child ; for, by a secret stipulation of our father with his military 
 friend, the foitune which he gave Sperata has returned to us, and 
 certainly we will not cheat our niece's benefactor of the recompense 
 which he has merited so well.' " 
 
 Theresa, taking Wilhelm by the hand, now said to him : " We 
 have here another beautiful example that disinterested well-doing 
 yields the highest and best return. Follow the call, which so 
 strangely comes to you ; and while you lay a double load of grati- 
 tude on the marchese, hasten to a fair land, "which has already often 
 drawn your heart and your imagination towai'ds it." 
 
 " I leave myself entirely to the guidance of my friends and you," 
 said Wilhelm. " It is vain to think, in this world, of adhering to our 
 individual will. What I purposed to hold fast, I must let go ; and 
 benefits which I have not deserved descend upon me of their own 
 accord. " 
 
 With a gentle pressure of Theresa's hand, Wilhelm took his own 
 away. " I give you full permission," said he to the abbe, " to decide 
 about me as you please. Since I shall not need to leave my Felix, I 
 am ready to go anywhither, and to undertake whatever you think 
 good." 
 
 Thus authorized, the abbe forthwith sketched out his plan. The 
 marchese, he proposed, should be allowed to depart ; Wilhelm was 
 to wait for tidings from the doctor ; he might then, when they had 
 settled what was to be done, set off with Felix. Accordingly, under 
 the pretense that Wilhelm's preparations for his journey would 
 detain liim, he advised the stranger to employ the meanwhile in 
 examining the cviriosities of the city which he meant to visit. The 
 marchese did in consequence depart ; and not without renewed and 
 strong expressions of his gratitude ; of which, indeed, the presents 
 left by him, including jewels, precious stones, embroidered stuffs, 
 afforded a sufficient proof. 
 
 Wilhelm too was at length in readiness for traveling ; and his 
 friends began to be distressed that the doctor sent them no news. 
 They feared some mischief had befallen the poor old harper, at the 
 very moment when they were in hopes of radically improving his con- 
 dition. They sent tlie courier off ; but he was scarcely gone, when 
 the doctor in the evening entered with a stranger, whose form and
 
 BOOK VIII. CHAPTER X. 431 
 
 aspect were expressive, earnest, striking, and whom no one knew. 
 Both stood silent for a space ; tlie stranger at length went up to 
 Wilhelm, and holding out his hand said: "Do you not know your 
 old friend, then ? It was the harper's voice ; but of his form there 
 seemed to remain no vestige. He was in the common garb of a 
 traveler, cleanly and genteelly equipped ; his beard had vanished ; his 
 hair was dressed with some attention to the mode ; and what particu- 
 larly made him quite irrecognizable was, that in his countenance the 
 look of age was no longer visible. Wilhelm embraced him with the 
 liveliest joy : he was presented to the rest ; and behaved himself 
 with great propriety, not knowing that the party had a little while 
 before become so well acquainted with him. " You will have patience 
 with a man," continued he with great composure, " who, grown 
 up as he appears, is entering on the world, after long sorrows, 
 inexperienced as a child. To this skillful gentleman I stand indebted 
 for the privilege of again appearing in the company of my fellow- 
 men." 
 
 They bade him welcome : the doctor motioned for a walk, to inter- 
 rupt the conversation, and lead it to indifferent topics. 
 
 In private the doctor gave the following explanation : "It was by 
 the strangest chance that we succeeded in the cure of this man. We 
 had long treated him, morally and physically, as our best considera- 
 tion dictated : in some degree the plan was efficacious : but the fear 
 of death continued powerful in him, and he would not lay aside his 
 beard and cloak. For the rest, however, he appeared to take more 
 interest in external things than formerly ; and both his songs and his 
 conceptions seemed to be approaching nearer life. A strange letter 
 from the clergyman, as you already know, called me from you. I 
 arrived : I found our patient altogether changed : he had voluntarily 
 given up his beard ; he had let his locks be cut into a customary 
 form ; he asked for common clothes ; he seemed to have at once 
 become another man. Though curious to penetrate the reason of this 
 sudden alteration, we did not risk inquiring of himself : at last we 
 accidentally discovered it. A glass of laudanum was missing from the 
 parson's private laboratory : we thought it right to institute a strict 
 inquiry on the subject : every one endeavored to ward off suspicion ; 
 and the sharpest quarrels rose among the inmates of the house. At 
 last, this man appeared before us, and admitted that he had the 
 laudanum : we asked if he had swallowed any of it. ' No ! ' said ie : 
 ' but it is to this that I owe the recovery of my reason. It is at your 
 choice to take the vial from me ; and to drive me back inevitably to 
 niy former state. The feeling that it was desirable to see the pains 
 of life terminated by death, first put me on the way of cure ; before 
 long the thought of terminating them by voluntary death arose in 
 me ; and with this intention, I took the glass of poison. The pos- 
 sibility of casting off my load of griefs forever gave me strength to 
 bear them ; and thus have I, ever since this' talisman came into vay
 
 433 MEISTEW 8 APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 possession, pressed myself back into life, by a contiguity with death. 
 Be not anxious lest I use tlie drug ; but resolve, as men acquainted 
 with the human heart, by granting me an independence of life, to 
 make me properly and wiiolesomely dependent on it.' After mature 
 consideration of the matter, we determined not to meddle farther with 
 \\m\ : and he now carries with him, in a firm little ground-glass vial, 
 this poison, of which he has so strangely made an antidote." 
 
 The doctor was informed of all that had transpired since his 
 departure : towards Augustin it was determined that they should 
 observ^e the deepest silence in regard to it. The abb6 undertook to 
 keep beside him, and to lead him forward on the healthful path he 
 had entered. 
 
 Meanwhile Wilhelm was to set about his journey over Germany 
 with the marchese. If it should appear that Augustin could be again 
 excited to affection for his native country, the circumstances were to 
 be communicated to his friends, and Wilhelm might conduct him 
 thither. 
 
 Wilhelm at last made every preparation for his journey. At 
 first the abbe thought it strange that Augustin rejoiced in hearing 
 of his friend and benefactor's purpose to depart ; but he soon dis- 
 covered the foundation of this curious movement. Augustin could 
 not subdue his fear of Felix : and he longed as soon as possible to see 
 the boy removed. 
 
 By degrees so many people had assembled, that the castle and ad- 
 joining buildings could scarcely accommodate them all ; and the less, 
 as such a miiltitude of guests had not originally been anticipated. 
 They breakfasted, they dined together ; each endeavored to persuade 
 himself that they were living iu a comfortable harmony, but each in 
 secret longed in some degree to be away. Theresa frequently rode 
 out attended by Lothario, and oftener alone ; she had already got 
 acquainted with all the landladies and landlords in the district ; for 
 she held it as a principle of her economy, in which perhaps she was 
 not far mi.staken, that it is essential to be in good acceptance with 
 one's neighbors, male and female, and to maintain with them a con- 
 stant interchange of civilities. Of an intended marriage with Lothario 
 she appeared to have no thought. Natalia and the countess often 
 talked with one another ; the abb6 seemed to covet the society of 
 Augustin ; Jarno had frequent conversations with the doctor ; Fried- 
 rich held by Wilhelm ; Felix ran about, wherever he could meet with 
 most amusement. It was thus too that in general they paired them- 
 selves in walking, when the company broke up ; when it was obliged 
 to be together, recourse was quickly had to music, to unite them all 
 by giving each back to himself. 
 
 Unexpectedly the count increased the party ; intending to remove 
 his lady, and, as it appeared, to take a solemn farewell of his worldly 
 friends. Jarno hastened to the coach to meet him : the count in- 
 quired what guests they had ; to which the other answered, in a fit of
 
 BOOK VIII. CHAPTER X. 433 
 
 wild humor that would often seize him : " We have all the nobility 
 in nature ; marcheses, marquises, milords and barons : we wanted 
 nothing but a count." They came upstairs. Wilhelm was the first 
 who met them in the ante-chamber. " Milord," said the count to him 
 in French, after looking at him for a moment, " I rejoice very much 
 in the unexpected pleasure of renewing my acquaintance with your 
 lordship : I am very much mistaken if I did not see you at my castle 
 in the prince's suite." " I had the happiness of waiting on your 
 excellency at that tune," answered Wilhelm; "but you do me too 
 much honor when you take me for an Englishman, and that of the 
 
 first quality. I. am a German, and " " A very brave young fellow," 
 
 interrupted Jarno. The count looked at Wilhelm with a smile, and 
 was about to make some reply, when the rest of the party entered, 
 and saluted him with many a friendly welcome. They excused them- 
 selves for being unable at the moment to show him to a proper cham- 
 ber ; promising without delay to make the necessary room for him. 
 
 " Ay, ay," said he, smiling : " we have left chance, I see, to act as 
 our purveyor. Yet with prudence and arrangement, how much is 
 possible ! For the present, I entreat you not to stir a slipper from its 
 place ; the disorder, I perceive, would otherwise be great. Every one 
 would be uncomfortably lodged ; and this no one shall be on my 
 account, if possible, not even for an hour. You can testify," said he 
 to Jarno, "and you too, Meister," turning to Wilhelm, " how many 
 people I commodiously stowed, that time, in my castle. Let me have 
 the list of persons and servants ; let me see how they are lodged at 
 present ; I will make a plan of dislocation, such that, with the very 
 smallest inconvenience, every one shall find a suitable apartment, 
 and there shall be room enough to hold another guest if one should 
 accidentally arrive." 
 
 Jarno volunteered to be the count's assistant ; procured him all the 
 neces.sary information ; taking great delight, as usual, if he could now 
 and then contrive to lead him astray, and leave him in awkward dif- 
 ficulties. The good old gentleman at last, however, gained a signal 
 triumph. The arrangement was completed ; he caused the names to 
 be written on the several doors, himself attending ; and it could not 
 be denied that, by a very few changes and substitutions, the object 
 had been fully gained. Jarno, among other things, had also man- 
 aged that the persons, who at present took an interest in each other, 
 should be lodged together. 
 
 " Will you help me," said the count to Jarno, after everything was 
 settled, ' ' to clear up my recollection of the young man there, whom 
 you call Meister, and who, you tell me, is a German V " Jarno was 
 silent ; for he knew very well that the count was one of those people"] 
 who, in asking questions, merely wish to show their knowledge. The J 
 count accordingly continued, without wailing for an answer : " You, 
 I recollect, presented him to me ; and warmly recommended him in 
 the prince's name. If his mother was a German woman, I'll be bound
 
 434 MEISTEB'8 APPBENTICESHIP. 
 
 for it his father is an Englisliinan, and one of rank too : who can cal- 
 culate the English blood that has been flowing, these last thirty years, 
 in German veins ! I do not wish to pump you : I know you have 
 always family secrets of that kind ; but in such cases it is in vain to 
 think of cheating me." He then proceeded to detail a great variety 
 of things as having taken place with Willielm at the castle ; to the 
 whole of which Jarno, as before, kept silence ; though the count was 
 altogether in the wrong, confounding Wilhelm more than once with 
 a young Englishman of the prince's suit. The truth was, the good 
 old gentleman had in former years possessed a very excellent mem- 
 ory ; and was still proud of being able to remember the minutest cir- 
 cumstances of his youth : but in regard to late occurrences, he used 
 to settle in his mind as true, and utter with the gi'eatest certainty, 
 whatever fables and fantastic combinations in the growing weakness 
 of his powers, imagination might present to him. For the rest, he 
 was become extremely mild and courteous ; his presence had a very 
 favorable influence upon the company. He would call on them to 
 read some useful book together ; nay, he often gave them little 
 games, which, without participating in them, he directed with the 
 greatest care. If they wondered at his condescension, he would re- 
 ply, that it became a man, who differed from the world in weighty 
 matters, to conform to it the more anxiously in matters of indifference. 
 
 In these games, our friend had, more than once, an angry and un- 
 quiet feeling to endure. Friedrich, with his usual levity, took fre- 
 quent opportunity of giving hints that Wilhelm entertained a secret 
 passion for Natalia. How could he have found it out ? What 
 entitled him to say so ? And would not his friends think that, as 
 they two were often together, Wilhelm must have made a disclosure 
 to him, so thoughtless and unlucky a disclosure ? 
 
 One day, while they were merrier than common at some such joke, 
 Augustin, dashing up the door, rushed in with a frightful look ; his 
 countenance was pale, his eyes were wild ; he seemed about to 
 speak, but his tongue refused its office. The party were astounded ; 
 Lothario and Jarno, supposing that his madness had returned, sprang 
 up and seized him. With a choked and faltering voice, then loudly 
 and violently, he spoke and cried : " Not nie ! Haste ! Help ! Save 
 the child ! Felix is poisoned ! " 
 
 They let him go ; he hastened through the door : all followed him 
 in consternation. They called the doctor : Augustin made for the 
 abbe's chamber ; they found the child ; who seemed amazed and 
 frightened, when they called to him from a distance : " What hast 
 thou been doing ? " 
 
 "Dear papa !" cried Felix, "I did not drink from the bottle, I 
 drank from the glass : I was very thirsty. " 
 
 Augustin struck his hands together : " He is lost ! " cried he ; then 
 pressed through the bystanders, and hastened awaj'. 
 
 They found a glass of almond-milk upon the table, with a bottle
 
 BOOK VIIL CHAPTER X. 435 
 
 near it more tlian half empty. The doctor came ; was told what 
 they had seen and heard : with horror he observed the well-known 
 laudanum-vial lying empty on the table. He called for vinegar, he 
 summoned all his art to his assistance. 
 
 Natalia had the little patient taken to a room, she busied herself 
 with painful care about him. The abbe bad run out to seek Augus- 
 tin, and draw some explanation from him. The unliappy father had 
 been out upon the same endeavor, but in vain : he returned to find anx- 
 iety and fear on every face. The doctor, in the meantime, had been 
 examining the almond-milk in the glass ; he found it to contain a 
 powerful mixture of opium : the child was lying on the sofa, seeming 
 very sick ; he begged bis father " not to let them pour more stuff 
 into him, not to let them plague him any more." Lothario had sent 
 his people, and had ridden off himself, endeavoring to find some 
 trace of Augustin. Natalia sat beside the child ; he took refuge in 
 her bosom, and entreated earnestly for her protection ; earnestly for 
 a little piece of sugar : the vinegar, he said, was biting sour. The 
 doctor granted his request ; the child was in a frightful agitation ; 
 they were obliged to let him have a moment's rest. The doctor said 
 that every means had been adopted ; he would continue to do his 
 utmost. The count came near, with an air of displeasure : his look 
 was earnest, even solemn : he laid his hands upon the child ; turned 
 his eyes to heaveij, and remained some moments in that attitude. 
 Wilhelm, who was lying inconsolable on a seat, sprang up, and cast- 
 ing a despairing look at Natalia, left the room. Shortly afterwards 
 the count too left it. 
 
 " I cannot understand," said the doctor, having paused a little, 
 " how it comes that there is not the smallest trace of danger visible 
 about the child. At a single gulp, he must have swallowed an im- 
 mense dose of opium ; yet I find no movement in his pulse but what 
 may be ascribed to our remedies, and to the terror we have put him 
 into." 
 
 In a few minutes Jarno entered, with intelligence that Angustin 
 had been discovered in the upper story, lying in his blood ; a razor 
 had been found beside him ; to all appearance he had cut his throat 
 The doctor hastened out : he met the people carrying down the body. 
 The unhappy man was laid upon a bed, and accurately examined : 
 the cut had gone across the windpipe ; copious loss of blood had 
 been succeeded by a swoon ; yet it was easy to observe that life, that 
 hope was still there. The doctor put the body in a proper posture •, 
 joined the edges of the wound, and bandaged it. The night passed 
 sleepless and full of care to all. Felix would not quit Natalia : 
 Wilhelm sat before her on a stool ; he had the boy's feet upon his 
 lap ; the head and breast were lying upon hers. Thus did they 
 divide the pleasing burden and the painful anxiety ; and continue, 
 till the day broke, in their uncomfortable sad position. Natalia had 
 given her hand to Wilhelm ; they did not speak a word ; they
 
 486 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 
 
 looked at the child and then at one another. Lothario and Jarno 
 were sitting at the other end of the room, and carrying on a most 
 important conversation ; •which, did not the pressure of events forbid 
 us, we would gladly lay before our readers. The boy slept softly ; 
 he awoke quite cheerful, early in the morning, and demanded a piece 
 of bread and butter. 
 
 So soon as Augustin had in some degree recovered, they endeavored 
 to obtain some explanation froni him. They learned with difficulty, 
 and by slow degrees, that having, by the count's unlucky shifting, 
 been appointed to the same chamber with the abbe, he had found the 
 manuscript in which his story was recorded. Struck with horror on 
 perusing it, he felt that it was now impossible for him to live ; on 
 which he had recourse as usual to the laudanum ; this he poured into 
 a glass of almond-milk, and raised it to his mouth ; but he shuddered 
 when it reached his lips ; he set it down untasted ; went out to walk 
 once more across the garden, and behold the face of nature ; and on 
 his return, he found the child employed in filling up the glass out of 
 which it had been drinking. 
 
 They entreated the unhappy creature to be calm ; he seized Wil- 
 helm by the hand with a spasmodic grasp and cried : " Ah ! why did 
 I not leave thee long ago ? I knew well that I should kill the boy, 
 and he irre." " The boy lives ! " said Wilhelm. The doctor, who had 
 listened with attention, now inquired of Augustin if all the drink was 
 poisoned. "No," replied he, "nothing but the glass." "By the 
 luckiest chance, then," cried the doctor, " the boy has drunk from 
 the bottle ! A benignant genius has guided his hand, that he did not 
 catch at death, which stood so near and ready for him." " No ! no !" 
 cried Wilhelm with a groan, and clapping both his hands upon his 
 eyes : " How dreadful are the words ! Felix said expressly that he 
 drank not from the bottle but the glass. His health is but a show ; 
 he will die among our hands." Wilhelm hastened out ; the doctor 
 went below, and taking Felix up, with much caressing, asked : " Now 
 did not you, my pretty boy ? You drank from the bottle, not the 
 glass ? " The child began to cry. The doctor secretly informed 
 Natalia how the matter stood ; she also strove in vain to get the truth 
 from Felix, who but cried the more ; cried till he fell asleep. 
 
 Wilhelm watched by him ; the night went peacefully away. Next 
 morning Augustin was found lying dead in bed ; he had cheated his 
 attendants by a seeming rest ; he had silently loosened the bandages, 
 and bled to death. Natalia went to walk with Felix : he was sport- 
 ful as in his happiest days. " You are always good to me," said 
 Felix; "you never scold, you never beat me ; I will tell you the 
 truth, I did drink from the bottle. Mamma Aurelia used to rap me 
 over the fingers every time I touched the bottle : father looked so 
 sour, I thought he would beat me." 
 
 With winged steps Natalia hastened to the castle ; Wilhelm came, 
 still overwhelmed \vith care, to meet her. " Happy fatlier ! " cried
 
 BOOK VIIL CHAPTER. X 43? 
 
 she, lifting up the child, and throwing it into his arms ; "there is 
 thy son again ! He dranlc from the bottle ; his naughtiness has saved 
 him." 
 
 They told the count the happy issue ; but he listened with a smil- 
 ing, silent, modest air of knowingness, lilie one tolerating the error 
 of worthy men. Jarno, attentive to all, could not explain this lofty 
 self-complacency ; till after many windings, he at last discovered it 
 to be his lordship's firm belief that the child had really taken poision, 
 and tliat he himself, by prayer and the laying-on of hands, had mirac- 
 ulously counteracted the effects of it. After such a feat, his lord- 
 ship now determined on departing. Everything, as usual with him, 
 was made ready in a moment ; the fair countess, when about to go, 
 took Wilhelm's hand before parting with her sister's ; she then 
 pressed both their hands between her own, turned quickly round, and 
 stepped into the carriage. 
 
 So many terrible and strange events, crowding one upon the back 
 of another, inducing an unusual mode of life, and putting everything 
 into disorder and perplexity, had brought a sort of feverish movement 
 into all departments of the house. The hours of sleep and waking, 
 of eating, drinking and social conversation were inverted. Except 
 Theresa, none of them had kept in their accustomed course. The 
 men endeavored, by increased potations, to recover their good humor : 
 and thus communicating to themselves an artificial vivacity, they 
 drove away that natural vivacity, which alone imparts to us true 
 cheerfulness and strength for action. 
 
 Wilhehn, in particular, was moved and agitated by the keenest 
 feeliiYg's. Those unexpected, frightful incidents had thrown him 
 out of all condition to resist a passion which had so forcibly seized 
 his heart. Felix was restored to him ; yet still it seemed that he liad 
 nothing : Werner's letters, the directions for his journey were in 
 readiness ; there was nothing wanting but the resolution to remove. 
 Everything conspired to hasten him. He could not but conjecture 
 that Lothario and Theresa were awaiting his departure, that they 
 might be wedded. Jarno was unusually silent ; you would have 
 said that he had lost a portion of his customary cheerfulness. Hap- 
 pily the doctor helped our friend, in some degree, from this embar- 
 rassment : he declared him sick, and set about administering medicine 
 to him. 
 
 The company assembled always in the evening : Friedrich, the 
 wild madcap, who had often drunk more wine than suited liini, 
 in general took possession of the talk ; and by a thousand frolicsome 
 citations, fantasies and waggish allusions, often kept the party 
 laughing ; often also threw them into awkward diihculties, by the 
 liberty he took to think aloud. 
 
 In the sickness of his friend he seemed to have little faith. Once 
 when they were all together, " Pray, doctor," cried he, " how is it 
 you call tile malady our friend is laboring under? Will none of the
 
 438 MEISTEit'S APPRENTICESSIP. 
 
 three thousand names, with which you decorate your ignorance, 
 apply to it ? The disease at least is not without examples. There 
 is one such case," continued he with an emphatic tone, "in the 
 Egyptian or Babylonian history." 
 
 The company looked at one another, and smiled. 
 
 " What call you the king — 1 " cried he, and stopped short a mo- 
 ment. " Well, if you will not help me, I must help myself." He 
 threw the door-leaves up, and pointed to the large picture in the 
 ante-chamber. "What call you the goat-beard there, with the 
 crown on, who is standing at the foot of the bed, making such a 
 rueful face about his sick son ? How call you the beauty, who enters, 
 and in her modest roguish eyes at once brings poison and antidote ? 
 How call you the quack of a doctor, who at this moment catches a 
 glimpse of the reality, and for the first time in his life takes occasion 
 to prescribe a reasonable recipe, to give a drug which cures to the 
 very heart, and is at once salutiferous and savory ? " 
 
 In this manner he continued babbling. The company took it with 
 as good a face as might be ; hiding their embarrassment behind a 
 forced laugh. A slight blush overspread Natalia's cheeks, and be- 
 trayed the movements of her heart. By good fortune, she was 
 walking up and down with Jarno : on coming to the door, with a 
 cunning motion she slipped out, walked once or twice across the 
 ante-chamber, and retired to her room. 
 
 The company were silent : Friedrich began to dance and sing : 
 
 O ye shall wonders see ! 
 What has been is not to be ; 
 What is said is not to say, 
 Before the break of day 
 Ye shall wonders see 1 
 
 Theresa had gone out to find Natalia ; Friedrich pulled the doctor 
 forward to the picture ; pronounced a ridiculous eulogium on medi- 
 cine, and glided from the room. 
 
 Lothario had been standing all the while in the recess of a window ; 
 he was looking, without motion, down into the garden. Wilhelm 
 was in the most dreadful state. Left alone with his friends, he still 
 kept silence for a time : he ran with a hurried glance over all his 
 history, and at last with shuddering, surveyed his present situation ; 
 he started up and cried : " If I am to blame for what is happening, 
 for what you and I are suffering, punish me. In addition to my 
 other miseries, deprive me of your friendship, and let me wander, 
 without comfort, forth into the wide world, in which I should have 
 mingled, and withdrawn myself from notice long ago. But if you 
 see in me the victim of a cruel entanglement of chance, out of which 
 I could not thread my way, then give me the assurance of your love, 
 of your friendship, on a journey which I dare not now postpone. A 
 time will come, when I may tell you what has passed of late within 
 me. Perhaps this is but a punishment, which I am suffering, be-
 
 BOOK Vni. CHAPTER X. 439 
 
 cause I did not soon enough disclose myself to you, because I hesi- 
 tated to display myself entirely as I was : you would have assisted 
 me, you would have helped me out in proper season. Again and 
 again have my eyes been opened to my conduct ; but it was ever too 
 late, it was ever in vain ! How richly do I merit Jarno's censure ! 1 
 imagined I had seized it ; how firmly did I purpose to employ it, to 
 commence another life ! Could 1, might I have done so ? It avails 
 not for mortals to complain of fate or of themselves ! We are 
 wretched, and appointed for wretchedness ; and what does it matter 
 whether blame of ours, higher influence or chance, virtue or vice, 
 wisdom or folly plunge us into ruin ? Farewell ! I will not stay an- 
 other moment in a house, where I have so fearfully violated the 
 rights of hospitality. Your brother's indiscretion is unpardonable ; 
 it aggravates my suffering to the highest pitch, it drives me to des- 
 pair. " 
 
 " And what," replied Lothario, taking Wilhelm by the hand, " what 
 if your alliance with my sister were the secret article on which de- 
 pended my alliance with Theresa ? This amends that noble maiden 
 has appointed for you ; she has vowed that these two pairs should 
 appear together at the altar. ' His reason has made choice of me,' 
 said she ; ' his heart demands Natalia : my reason shall assist his 
 heart. ' We agreed to keep our eyes upon Natalia and yourself ; we 
 told the abb^" of our plan, who made us promise not to intermeddle 
 with this union, or attempt to forward it, but to sufEer everything to 
 take its course. We have done so, nature has performed her part ; our 
 mad brother only shook the ripe fruit from the branch. And now, since 
 we have come together so unusually, let us lead no common life, let us 
 work together in a noble manner, and for noble purposes ! It is incon- 
 ceivable how much a man of true culture can accomplish for himself 
 and others, if, without attempting to rule, he can be the guardian over 
 many ; can induce them to do that in season, which they are at &\\y rate 
 disposed enough to do ; can guide them to their objects, which in gen- 
 eral they see with due distinctness, though they miss the road to 
 them. Let us make a league for this : it is no enthusiasm ; but an 
 idea which may be fully executed, which indeed is often executed, 
 only with imperfect consciousness, by people of benevolence and 
 woi-th. Natalia is a living instance of it. No other need attempt to 
 rival the plan of conduct which has been perscribed by nature for 
 that pure and noble soul." 
 
 He had more to say, but Friedrich with a shout came jumping in. 
 " What a garland have I earned ! " cried he : "how will you reward 
 me ? Myrtle, laurel, ivy, leaves of oak, the freshest you can find, 
 come twist them : I have merits far beyond them all. Natalia is 
 thine ! I am the conjurer who raised this treasure for thee." 
 
 " He raves," said Wilhelm ; " I must go." 
 
 " Art thou empowered to speak ?" inquired Lothario, holding Wil- 
 helm from retiring
 
 440 MEISTER 'S APPRENTICE8EIP. 
 
 '•' By my own authority," said Friedricli, "and the grace of God. 
 It was thus I was the wooer ; thus I am the messenger : I listened at 
 the door ; she told the abb6 everything." 
 
 " Barefaced rogue ! who bade thee listen ?" cried Lothario. 
 
 " Who bade her bolt the door? " cried Freidrich. " I heard it all : 
 she was in a wondrous pucker. In the night when Felix seemed so 
 ill, and was lying half upon her knees, and thou wert sitting com- 
 fortless before her, sharing the beloved load, she made a vow, that if 
 the child died, she would confess her love to thee, and offer thee her 
 hand. And now when the child lives, why should she change her 
 mind ? What we promise under such conditions, we keep under any. 
 Nothing wanting but the parson ! He will come, and marvel what 
 strange news he brings." 
 
 The abbe entered. " We know it all," cried Friedrich : "be as 
 brief as possible ; it is mere formality you come for ; they never send 
 for you or me on any other score. " 
 
 " He has listened," said the baron. — " Scandalous ! " exclaimed the 
 abb6. 
 
 "Now, quick ! " said Friedrich. "How stands it with the cere- 
 monies ? These we can reckon on our fingers. You must travel ; the 
 marchese's invitation answers to a hairsbreadth. If we had you once 
 beyond the Alps, it will be all right : the people are obliged to you 
 for undertaking anything surprising ; you procure them an amuse- 
 ment which they are not called to pay for. It is as if you gave a free 
 ball ; all ranks partake in it." 
 
 " In such popular festivities," replied the abb6, " you have done 
 the public much service in your time ; but to-day, it seems, you will 
 not let me speak at all." 
 
 " If it is not just as I have told it," answered Friedrich, " let us have 
 it better. Come round, come round ; we must see them both together." 
 
 Lothario embraced his friend, and led him to Natalia, who with 
 Theresa came to meet them. All were silent. 
 
 "No loitering ! " cried Friedrich. " In two days you may be ready 
 for your travels. Now, think you, friend," continued he, addressing 
 Wilhelm, "when we first scraped acquaintance, and I asked you 
 for the pretty nosegay, who could have supposed you were ever to 
 receive a flower like this from me? " 
 
 "Do not, at the moment of my highest happiness, remind me of 
 those times ! " 
 
 " Of which you need not be ashamed, any more than one need be 
 ashamed of his descent. The times were very good times : only I 
 cannot but laugh to look at thee : to my mind, thou resemblest Saul 
 the son of Kish, who went out to seek his father's asses, and found 
 a kingdom." 
 
 " I know not the worth of a kingdom," answered Wilhelm ; " but 
 T know I have attained a happiness which I have not deserved, and 
 which I would not change with anything in life,"
 
 WILHELM MEISTER'S TRAVELS; 
 
 OK, 
 
 THE RE^UjSTOIAI^TS. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 To travel now th' Apprentice does essay, 
 
 And every step is girt with doubt and danger : 
 
 In truth he uses not to sing or pray ; 
 
 But, is his path perplex'd. this toilsome ranger 
 
 Does turn an earnest eye when mist's above him. 
 To bis own heart, and to the hearts that love him.
 
 Scarce could tell you rightly 
 
 Whether I'm the same or not ; 
 If you task me very tightly : 
 
 Yes, this is my sense you've got ; 
 Sense that vexes, then assuages. 
 
 Now too light, and now too dark. 
 But in some few hundred pages 
 
 May again come to the mark.
 
 ,' Does fortune try thee ? She had cause to do't ; 
 She wish'd thee abstinent : obey, be mute ! 
 
 What shap'st thou here at the world ! 'tis shapen long*ago : 
 
 The Maker shap'd it. he thought it best even »o : 
 
 Thy lot is appointed, go follow its best ; 
 
 Thy course is begun, thou must walk, and not rest ; 
 
 For sorrow and care cannot alter thy case ; i 
 
 And running, not raging, will win thee the race. 
 
 Enweri tells us, a most royal man, 
 
 The deepest heart and highest head to scan : 
 
 " In every place, at every time, thy surest chance 
 
 Lies in Decision, Justice, Tolerance." 
 
 My inheritance, how wide and fair ! 
 Time is my estate ! to Time I'm heir. 
 
 Now it is Day ; be doing every one ! 
 
 For the Night cometh, wherem work can none.
 
 And 80 I, in tale adjoining, 
 
 Lift old treasures into day ; 
 If not gold or perfect coining, 
 
 Thej' are metals anyway : 
 Thou canst sort them, thou canst sunder. 
 
 Thou canst melt and make them one 
 Then take that with smiling wonder, 
 
 Stamp it like thyself, my son.
 
 WILHELM MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT. 
 
 WiLHELM was sitting under tlie shadow of a liuge crag, on a shaggy- 
 impressive spot, where the steep mountain -path turned abruptly round 
 a corner down into the chasm. The sun was still high, and brighten- 
 ing the tops of the pine-trees in the clefts at his feet. He was looking 
 at something in his note-book, when Felix, who had been clambering 
 about, came to him with a stone in his hand. " What is the name of 
 this stone, father?" said the boy. 
 
 " I know not," answered Wilhelm. 
 
 " Can this be gold that glitters in it so 1" said Felix. 
 
 " No, no," replied Wilhelm ; " and now I remember, people call it 
 mica, or cat-gold." 
 
 " Cat-gold !" said the boy smiling ; " and why?" 
 
 " I suppose, because it is false, and cats are reckoned false too." 
 
 " Well, I will note that," said the son, and put in the stone beside 
 the rest, with which he had already filled his pockets. 
 
 Scarcely was this over, when, adown the steep path, a strange 
 enough appearance came in sight. Two boys, beautiful as day, — in 
 colored jackets, which you might have taken for outer shirts, — came 
 bounding down one after the other ; and Wilhelm had opportunity of 
 viewing them more closely, as they faltered, on observing him, and 
 stopped for a moment. Round the elder boy's head waved rich fair 
 locks, which you looked at first, on observing him ; and then his 
 clear blue eyes attracted your attention, which spread itself with de- 
 light over his beautiful shape. The younger, more like a friend than 
 a brother, was decked with brown sleek hair ; which hung down 
 over his shoulders, and the reflection of which appeared to be imaged 
 in his eyes. 
 
 These strange, and in this wilderness quite unexpected beings, 
 Wilhelm had not time to view more narrowly, ibr he heard a man's 
 voice calling down round the corner of the crag, in a serious but 
 friendly tone :
 
 446 MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 " Why do you stand still ? Don't stop tlie way ! " 
 
 Willielin looked upwards ; and if the children had surprised him, 
 what he now saw filled him with astonishment. A stout, firmset, 
 not too tall young man, tucked up for walking, of brown complexion 
 and black hair, was stepping firmly and carefully down the rock- 
 way ; and leading an ass behind him, which first presented its glossy 
 weil-trimmed head, and then the fair burden it bore. A soft lovely 
 woman was seated on a large and well-paneled saddle : in her arms, 
 within a blue mantle which hung over her, lay an infant, which 
 she was pressing to her breast, and looking at with indescribable 
 tenderness. The man did as the children had done ; faltered for a 
 moment at sight of Willi elm. The beast slackened its step, but the 
 descent was too precipitous ; the travelers could not halt ; and Wij- 
 helm with astonishment saw them vanish behind the contiguous wall 
 of rocks. 
 
 Nothing was more natural than that this singular procession should 
 cut short his meditations. He rose in no small curiosity, and looked 
 from his position towards the chasm, to see wliether they would not 
 again make their appearance somewhere below. He was just about 
 descending to salute these strange travelers when Felix came climbing 
 up, and said : " Father, may I not go home with these boys to their 
 house ? They want to take me with them. Thou must go too, the 
 man said to me. Come ! They are waiting down there ! " 
 
 " I will speak v.ith them," answered Willi elm. 
 
 He found them at a place where the path was more level ; and he 
 could not but gaze in wonder at the singular figures which had so 
 strongly attracted his attention. Not till now had it been in his 
 power to note the peculiarities of the group. The young stout 
 man, he found, had a joiner's axe on his shoulder, and a long thin 
 iron square. The children bore in their hands large sedge-tufts, like 
 palms ; and if in this point they resembled angels, they likewise 
 carried little baskets with shop- wares in them, thereby resembling the 
 little daily posts, as they pass to and fro over the mountains. The 
 mother also, he observed, on looking more leisurely, wore under her 
 mantle a reddish mill-colored lower garment ; so that "The Flight 
 into Egypt," which our friend had so often seen painted, he now with 
 amazement saw bodied forth before his eyes. 
 
 The strangers exchanged sa;lutations ; and as Wilhelm, from sur- 
 prise and attention, could not speak, the young man said : "Our 
 children have formed a friendship in these feAV moments. Will you 
 go with ns, to see wlietlier some kind relation will not spring up be- 
 tween tlie elder parties also ? " 
 
 Wilhelm bethought himself an instant, and then answered : "The 
 aspect of your little family procession awakens trust and good- will ; 
 and to confess it frankly, curiosity no less, and a lively desire to be 
 better acquainted with you. For at the first glance, one might ask 
 himself the question ; Whether you are real travelers, or only spirits
 
 CHAPTER I. 447 
 
 tliat take pleasure in enlivening these uninhabitable mountains by 
 pleasant visions ? " 
 
 " Then come home with us to our dwelling," said the other. " Come 
 with us ! " cried the children, already drawing Felix along with them. 
 "Come with us ! " said the woman, turning her soft kindliness from 
 the suckling to the stranger. 
 
 Without reflecting, Wilhelm answered : "I am sorry that for the 
 present moment I cannot follow you. This night, at least, I must 
 spend up at the Border-house. My portmanteau, my papers, all are 
 lying up there unpacked, intrusted to no one. But that I may prove 
 my wish and purpose to satisfy your friendly invitation, take my 
 Felix with you as a pledge. To-morrow I shall see you. How far 
 is it ? " 
 
 " We shall be home before sunset," said the carpenter ; "and from 
 the Border-house you are but a league and a half. Your boy increases 
 our household for this night, and to-morrow we expect you." 
 
 The man and the animal set forth. Wilhelm smiled thoughtfully 
 to see his Felix so soon received among the angels. The boy had 
 already seized a sedge-tuft, and taken the basket from the younger of 
 his companions. The procession was again on the point of vanishing 
 behind a ledge of rock, when Wilhelm recollected himself, and cried : 
 " But how shall I inquire you out ? " 
 
 ' ' Ask for St. Joseph ! " sounded from the hollow ; and the whole 
 vision had sunk behind the blue shady wall of cliffs. A pious hymn, 
 uplifted on a chorus of several voices, rose echoing from the distance ; 
 and Wilhelm thought he could distinguish the voice of his Felix 
 among the rest. 
 
 He ascended the path, and thus protracted the period of sunset. 
 The heavenly star, which he had more than once lost sight of, illumi- 
 nated him afresh as he mounted higher, and it was still day when he 
 reached his inn. Once more he delighted himself with the vast 
 mountain prospect ; then withdrew to his chamber, where immedi- 
 ately he §eized his pen, and passed a part of the night in writing 
 
 WILHELM TO NATALIA. 
 
 Now at last I have reached the summit, the summit of the moun- 
 tains, which will place a stronger separation betn-ixt us than all the 
 tract I had passed over before. To my feeling, one is still in the 
 neighborhood of those he loves, so long as the streams run down from 
 him towards them. To-day I can still fancy to myself that the twig 
 which I cast into the forest-brook, may perhaps float down to her, 
 may in a few days land at her garden ; and thus our spirit sends its 
 images mor« easily, our heart its sympathies, by the same downward 
 course. But over on the other side, I fear, there rises a wall of divis- 
 ion against the imagination and the feelings. Yet this perhaps is but 
 a vain anxiety ; for over on the other side, after all, it will not be 
 otherwise than it is here. What could \>s.n me from thee ! From
 
 448 MEISTEB* 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 thee, whose own I am forever, tliough a strange destiny sunders me 
 from thee, and unexpectedly shuts the heaven to which I stood so 
 near. I had time to compose myself ; and yet no time could have 
 sufficed to give me that composure, had I not gained it from thy 
 mouth, from thy lips, in that decisive moment. How could I have 
 torn myself away, if the enduring thread had not been spun, which 
 is to unite us for time and eternity ? Yet I must not speak of all this. 
 Thy tender commands I will not break : on this mountain top, be it 
 the last time that I name the word separation before thee ! My life 
 is to become a restless wandering. Strange duties of the wanderer 
 have I to fulfill, and peculiar trials to undergo. How I often smile 
 within myself, when I read the terms which thou prescribedst to me, 
 which I prescribed to myself. Many of them have been kept, many 
 broken ; but even while breaking them, that sheet is of no use to me, 
 that te.stimonial of my last confession, of my last absolution : it 
 speaks to me as an authoritative conscience, and I again turn to the 
 right path. I watch myself ; and my faults no longer rush like moun- 
 tain torrents, one over the other. 
 
 Yet I will confess to thee, I many times wonder at those teachers 
 and guides of men, who impose on their scholars nothing but exter- 
 nal mechanical duties. They make the task, for themselves and the 
 world, a light one. For this very part of my obligations, which at 
 first seemed the heaviest, the strangest, I now observe with greatest 
 ease, with greatest satisfaction. 
 
 I am not to stay beyond three days under one roof. I am to quit 
 no inn without removing at least one league from it. These regula- 
 tions are in truth calculated to make my life a life of travel, and to 
 prevent the smallest thought of settlement from taking hold of me. 
 Hitherto I have fulfilled this condition to the letter ; not even using 
 all the liberty it grants me. This is the first time that I have paused : 
 here, for the first time, I sleep three nights in the same bed. From 
 this spot I send thee much that I have heard, observed, laid up for 
 thee : and early in the morning, I descend on the other side ; in the 
 first place, to a strange family, I might "also say, a holy'family, of 
 which, in my journal, thou wilt find farther notice. For the present, 
 farewell ; and lay down this sheet Avith the feeling that it has but 
 one thing to say, but one thing which it would say and repeat forever ; 
 yet will not say it, will not repeat it now, till I have once more the 
 happiness of lying at thy feet, and wee])ing over thy hands for all 
 that I renounce. 
 
 Morning. 
 
 My packing is done. The porter is girding the portmateau on his 
 dorsal. As yet the sun is not up ; vapors are steaming out of all the 
 hollows, but the upper sky is clear. We step down into tlie gloomy 
 deeps, which also will soon brighten over our heads. Let me send 
 my last sigh home to thee ! Let my last look towards thee be yet 
 blinded with involuntarv tears ! I am decided and determined. Thou
 
 CHAPTER it. 449 
 
 shalt hear nc more complaints from me : tliou slialt hear only what 
 happens to the wanderer. And yet now, when I*iim on the point of 
 ending, a thousand thoughts, wishes, hopes and purposes come crowd- 
 ing through my soul. Happily the people force me away. The por- 
 ter calls me ; and mine host has already in my presence begun sorting 
 the apartment, as if I were gone : thus feelingless, imprudent heirs 
 do not hide, from the departing testator, their preparations for assum- 
 ing management. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ST. JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 Already had the wanderer, following his porter on foot, left the 
 steep rocks behind and above him ; already were they traversing a 
 softer mid-range of hills ; and hastening through many a well-pruned 
 wood, over many a friendly meadow, forward and forward ; till at 
 last they found themselves on a declivity, and looked down into a 
 beautifully cultivated valley, begirt on all sides with hills. A large 
 monastic edifice, half in ruins, half in repair, immediately attracted 
 their attention. "This is St. Joseph," said the porter. "Pity for 
 the fine church ! Do but look how fresh and firm it still holds up its 
 pillars through bush and tree, though it has lain many hundred years 
 in decay." 
 
 " The cloister, on the contrary," said Wilhelm, " I observe, is kept 
 in good state." 
 
 " Yes," said the other, "there is a schaffner lives here ; he man- 
 ages the husbandry, collects the dues and tithes, which the people 
 far and wide have to pay him." 
 
 So speaking, they had entered through the open gate into a spa- 
 cious court, surrounded with earnest-looking, well-kept buildings, and 
 announcing itself as the residence of some peaceful community. 
 Among the children playing in the area, Wilhelm noticed Felix ; the 
 other two were the angels of last night. The friendly trefoil came 
 running towards him, with salutations and assurances that papa 
 would soon be back. He, in the meanwhile, they said, must go into 
 the hall, and rest himself. 
 
 How surprised was Wilhelm when the children led him into this 
 apartment which they named the hall. Passing directly from the 
 court, through a large door, our wanderer found himself in a very 
 cleanly, undecayed chapel, which, however, as he saw well enough, 
 had been fitted up for the domestic uses of daily life. On the one 
 side stood a table, a settle, some chairs, and benches ; on the other 
 side a neatly-carved dresser, with variegated pottery, jugs and 
 glasses. Some chests and trunks were standing in suitable niches ; 
 Meister— 15
 
 450 MEISTER'8 TRAVELS. 
 
 and, simple as the whole appeared, there was not wa'jting an air of 
 comfort ; and dailj*household life looked forth from it with an aspect 
 of invitation. The light fell in from high windows on the side. But 
 what most roused the attention of the wanderer, was a series of col- 
 ored figures painted on the wall, stretching under the windows, at a 
 considerable height, round three-quarters of the chapel ; and hang- 
 ing down to tlie wainscot, which covered the remainder of the 
 wall to the ground. The pictures represented the history of St. 
 Josepli. Here you might see him first employed with his carpentry 
 work ; here he meets 5Jary, and a lily is sprouting from the ground 
 between them, while angels hover round observing them. Here his 
 betrothing takes place ; next comes the salutation of the angel. Here 
 he is sitting, disconsolate among his neglected worlc : he has laid by 
 the axe, and is thuikiug to put away his wife. But now appears the 
 angel to him in a dream, and his situation changes. With reverence 
 he looks on the new-lwrn Child in the stable at Bethlehem, and prays 
 to it. Soon after this comes a wonderfully beautiful picture. You 
 observe a quantity of timber lying dressed ; it is just to be put 
 together, and by chance two of the pieces form a cross. The Child has 
 fallen asleep on the cross ; his mother sits by, and looks at him with 
 heartfelt love ; and the foster-father pauses with his labor, that he 
 may not awaken him. Next follows the flight into Egypt ; it called 
 forth a smile from the gazing traveler, for lie saw here on the walls a 
 repetition of the living figures he had met last night. 
 
 He had not long pursued his contemplations, when the landlord 
 entered ; whom he directly recognized as the leader of the holy 
 caravan. They saluted each other cordially ; much conversation fol- 
 lowed, yet Wilhelm's chief attention continued fixed on the pictures. 
 The host observed the feeling of his guest, and began with a smile : 
 " No doubt you are Avondering at the strange accordance of this build- 
 ing with its inhabitants, whom you got acquainted with last night. 
 Yet it is perhaps still more singular than you suppose : the building 
 has in truth formed the inhabitants. For when the inanimate has 
 life, it can also produce what has life." 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! " answered Wilhelm. " I should be surprised if the 
 spirit, which worked so powerfully in this mountain solitude long cen- 
 turies ago, and drew round it such a mighty body of edifices, posses- 
 sions and rights, diffusing in return the blessings of manifold culture 
 over the region, could not still, out of these ruins, manifest the force 
 of its life on some living being. But let us not linger on general 
 reflections : make me acquainted with your history ; let me know how 
 it can possibly have happened, that without affectation and presump- 
 tion, the past again represents itself to you, and what was, again is." 
 
 Just as Wilhelm was expecting responsive information from the lips 
 of his host, a friendly voice in the court cried : ' Joseph ! " The man 
 obeyed it, and went out. 
 
 " So he too is Joseph ! " said Wilhelm to himself. " This is strange
 
 CHAPTER II. 451 
 
 enough ; and yet not so strange as that, in his life, he should person- 
 ate his saint." At the same time looking through the door, he saw 
 the Virgin Mother of last night, speaking with her husband. They 
 parted at last ; the woman walking towards the opposite building. 
 " Mary," cried he after her, "a word more." 
 
 " So she too is Mary ! " said Wilhelm inwardly. " Little would 
 make me feel as if I were transported eighteen hundred years into 
 the past ! " He thought of the solemn and secluded valley in which 
 he was, of the wrecks and silence all round ; and a strange antiquarian 
 mood came over him. It was time for the landlord and children to 
 come in. The latter called for Wilhelm to go and walk, as the land- 
 lord had still some business to do. And now came in view the ruins 
 of the church, with its many shafts and columns, with its high peaks 
 and walls ; which looked as if gathering strength in the influence of 
 wind and weather ; for strong trees from of old had taken root in the 
 broad backs of the walls, and now in company with grass, flowers 
 and moss in great quantities, exhibited bold hanging gardens vege- 
 tating in the air. Soft sward-paths led you up the banks of a lively 
 brook ; and from a little elevation our wanderer could now overlook 
 the edifice and its site with more interest, as its occupants had become 
 still more singular in his eyes, and by their harmony with their abode 
 had awakened his liveliest curiosity. 
 
 The promenaders returned ; and found in the religious hall a table 
 standing covered. At the upper end was an arm-chair, in which the 
 mistress of the house took her seat. Beside her she had placed a 
 high wicker cradle, in which lay the little infant ; the father sat next 
 this on her left hand, Wilhelm on her right. The three children 
 occupied the under space of the table. An old serving-maid brought 
 in a well-readied meal. Eating and drinking implements alike 
 pointed to the past. The children afforded matter for talk, while 
 Wilhelm could not satisfy himself with looking at the form and the 
 bearing of his saintly hostess. 
 
 Their repast over, the company separated. The landlord took his 
 guest to a shady spot in the ruin, where, from an elevated station, the 
 pleasant prospect down the valley lay entire before them ; and farther 
 off, the heights of the lower country, with their fruitful declivities 
 and woody backs, were seen protruding one behind the other. " Itis 
 fair," said the landlord, " that I satisfy your curiosity ; and the 
 rather, as I feel that you can view the strange with seriousness, when 
 you find it resting on a serious ground. This religious foundation, 
 the remains of which are lying round us, was dedicated to the holy 
 family, and in old times noted as a place of pilgrimage for many 
 wonders done in it. The church was consecrated to the Mother and 
 the Son. It has lain for several centuries in ruins. The chapel, 
 dedicated to the holy foster-father, still remains, as does likewise the 
 serviceable part of the cloister. The revenues have for many years 
 belonged to a temporal prince, who keeps a steward or schaffner here ;
 
 452 MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 this schaffner am I, son of the last schaffner, who also succeeded his 
 father in the office. 
 
 "St. Joseph, though any regular worship of him has long ceased 
 here, had been so helpful to our family, that it is not to be wondered 
 at, if they felt particularly well inclined towards him : hence came it 
 that they had me baptized by the name of Joseph, and thereby, I may 
 say, in some sense determined my whole future way of life. I grew 
 up ; and if I used to help my father in managing the dues, I attached 
 myself as gladly, nay, still more gladly, to my mother, who cheerfully 
 distributed her bounty according to her fortune, and for her kindness 
 and good deeds was known and loved over all the mountains. Ere 
 long she would send me out, now this way, now that : now to fetch, 
 now to carry, now direct ; and I very speedily began to be at home in 
 this sort of pious occupation. 
 
 " In general, our mountain life has something more humane in it 
 than the life of lowlanders. The inhabitants here are nearer, and, if 
 you will, more remote also. Our wants are smaller, but more press- 
 ing. Each man is placed more on his own footing ; he must learn 
 to depend on his own hands, on his own limbs. The laborer, the 
 poet, the porter, all unite in one person ; each of us is more con- 
 nected with the other, meets him oftener, and lives with him in joint 
 activity. 
 
 "As' I was still young, and my shoulders could not bear heavy 
 burdens, I fell upon a thought of furnishing a little ass with panniers, 
 which I might drive before me up and down the steep footpaths. In 
 the mountains the ass is no such despicable animal as in the plain 
 country, where the laborer that plows with horses reckons himself 
 better than he that turns his furrow with oxen. And I walked behind 
 my beast with the less hesitation, as I had before observed in the 
 chapel that an animal of this same sort had been promoted to such 
 honor as to carry God and his Mother. This chapel was not then, 
 hov. ever, in the state you now see it in. It had been treated as a 
 cart-house, nay. almost as a stable. Firewood, stakes, implements, 
 barrels and ladders, everything that came to hand, lay huddled to- 
 gether in it. Lucky that the pictures were so high, and the wainscot 
 could stand some hardships. But even in my childhood, I used many 
 a time to clamber over the wood, and delight myself with looking at 
 the pictures, which no one could properly explain to me. However, 
 I knew at least that the saint whose life stood depicted on these walls 
 was my patron ; and I rejoiced in him as much as if he had been my 
 uncle. I waxed in stature ; and it being an express condition, that 
 whoever meant to aspire after this post of schaifner must practice 
 some handicraft, our family, desiring that I might inherit so good 
 a benefice, determined on putting me to learn some trade ; and such 
 a one, at the same time as might be useful here in our upland way 
 of life. 
 
 ' ' My father was a cooper, and had been accustomed to supply of hira-
 
 CHAPTER 11. 4oa 
 
 self whatever was required in that sort ; from which there arose no 
 little profit, both to himself and the country. But I could not prevail 
 on myself to follow him in this business. My inclination drew me 
 irresistibly to the joiner trade ; the tools and materials of which I 
 had seen, from infancy upwards, so accurately and circumstantially 
 painted beside my patron saint. I signified my wish : nothing could 
 be objected to it ; the less, as in our frequent buildings, the carpenter 
 is often wanted here ; nay, if he have any sleight in his trade and 
 fondness for it, especially in forest districts, the arts of the cabinet- 
 maker, and even of the carver, lie close beside his province. And 
 what still further confirmed me in my higher purposes was a picture, 
 which now, alas, is almost effaced. If once you know what it is meant 
 to represent, you may still be able to decipher the figures, when I 
 take you to look at it. St. Joseph had got no lower a commission than 
 to make a throne for King Herod. The royal seat was to be erected 
 between two given pillars. Joseph carefully measures the breadth 
 and height, and fashions a costly throne. But how astonished is he, 
 how alarmed, on carrying his finished work to the place ; the throne 
 is too high, and not broad enough. King Herod, as we know, was a 
 man that did not understand jesting : the pious wriglit is in the great- 
 est perplexity. The divine Child, accustomed to if)llow him every- 
 where, and in childlike humble sport to cai'ry his tools after him, ob- 
 serves his strait, and is immediately at hand with advice and assist- 
 ance. He requires of his foster-father to take hold of the throne by 
 the one side, he himself grasps it by the other, and both begin to pull. 
 Easily and pliantly, as if it had been made of leather, the carved 
 throne extends in breadth, contracts proportionately in length, and 
 fits itself to the place with the nicest accuracy, to the great comfort 
 of the reassured master, and the perfect .satisfaction of the king. 
 
 " This throne was, in my youth, quite distinctly visible ; and by 
 the remains of the one side you will still be able to discern, that there 
 was no want of carving on it ; which indeed must have been easier 
 for the painter, than it would have been for the carpenter, had such a 
 thing been required of him. 
 
 "That circumstance, however, raised no scruples in me; but I 
 looked on the handicraft, to which I had devoted myself, in so honor- 
 able a light, that I was all impatience to be apprenticed to it ; a long 
 ing which was the easier to fulfill, as a master of the trade lived in 
 our neighborhood, who worked for the whole district, and kept sev- 
 eral apprentices and journeymen about him. Thus I continued in the 
 neighlDorhood of my parents, and to a certain extent pursued my 
 former way of life also ; seeing I employed my leisure hours and holi- 
 days in doing those charitable messages which my mother still in- 
 trusted to me,
 
 454 MEISTEB '8 TBA VEL8. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE VISIT. 
 
 " So passed several years," continued the narrator. " I very soon 
 comprehended the principles of my trade ; and my frame, expanded 
 by labor, was equal to the undertaking of everything connected with 
 the business. At the same time, I kept managing my ancient service, 
 which my good mother, or rather the sick and destitute, required 
 at my hands. I moved with my beast through the mountains ; punc- 
 tually distributed my lading, and brought back from shopkeepers and 
 merchants what we needed here at home. 
 
 "My master was contented with me, my parents also. Already I 
 enjoyed the satisfaction, in my wanderings, of seeing many a house 
 which I had helped to raise, or had myself decorated. For, in par- 
 ticular, that last notching of tlie beam-ends, that carving of certain 
 simple forms, that branding-in of pretty figures, that red-painting of 
 certain recesses, b^ which a wooden house in the mountains acquires 
 so pleasant an aspect ; these arts were specially intrusted to me, as I 
 always made the best hand of such tasks, having Herod's throne and 
 its ornaments constantly in my head. 
 
 " Among the help-needing persons, whom my mother took pecu- 
 liar charge of, were particularly young wives near the time of their 
 confinement ; as by degrees I could well enough remark, though in 
 such cases the commissions given me were veiled in a certain mys- 
 tery. My messages, on these occasions, never reached directly to the 
 party concerned ; but everything passed through the hands of a good 
 old Avoman, who lived down the dale, and was called Fran Elizabeth. 
 My mother, herself skillful in the art which saves life to so many at 
 their very entrance into life, constantly maintained a good under- 
 standing with Frau Elizabeth ; and I often heard, in all quarters, that 
 many a one of our stout mountaineers stood indebted for his existence 
 to these two women. The secrecy with which Elizabeth received me 
 at all times ; her pointed replies to my enigmatical questions, which 
 I myself did not understand, awoke in me a singular reverence for 
 her ; and her house, Avhich was extremely clean, appeared to me to 
 represent a sort of sanctuary. 
 
 " Meanwhile, by my acquirements and adroitness in my craft, I 
 had gained considerable influence in tlie family. As my father, in 
 the character of cooper, had taken charge of the cellar and its con- 
 tents, I now took charge of roof and room, and repaired many a dam- 
 aged part of the old building. In particular, 1 contrived to mako 
 some fallen barns and outhouses once more serviceable for domestic 
 use ; and scarcely was this done, when I set about cleaning and clear-
 
 CHAPTER H. 455 
 
 ing out my beloved chapel. In a few days, it was put in order, 
 almost as you see it at present ; and such pieces of the wainscot as 
 were damaged, or altogether wanting, I had endeavored, as I went 
 along, to restore in the same fashion as the rest. These door-leaves 
 of the entrance too, you might' think were old enough ; yet they are 
 of my workmanship. I passed several years in carving them at leis- 
 ure hours, having fir.st mortised the body of them firmly together 
 out of strong oaken planks. Whatever of the pictures had not been 
 effaced or injured at that time, has since continued unimpaired ; and 
 1 assisted our glazier in a new house he was erecting, under the con- 
 dition of his putting in colored windows here. 
 
 " If these figures and thoughts on the saint's life had hitherto 
 occupied my imagination, the whole impressed itself on me with much 
 more liveliness, now that I could again regard the place as a sanctu- 
 ary ; could linger in it, and muse at leisure on what I saw or con- 
 jectured. There lay in me an irresistible desire to follow in the 
 footsteps of this saint ; and as a similar history was not to be looked 
 for in these times, I determined on commencing my resemblance from 
 the lowest point upwards ; as indeed, by the use of my beast of bur- 
 den, I had already commenced it long ago. The small creature, which 
 I had hitherto employed, would no longer content me ; I chose for 
 myself a far more stately carrier, and got a large stout saddle, which 
 was equally adapted for riding and packing. A pair of new baskets 
 were also procured ; and a net of many-colored knots, flakes and 
 tufts, intermixed with jingling tags of metal, decorated the neck of 
 my long-eared beast, which might now show itself beside its model 
 on the wall. No one thought of mocking me, when I passed over 
 the mountains in this equipment ; people do not quarrel with benev- 
 olence for putting on a strange outside. 
 
 "Meanwhile, war, or rather its consequences, had approached our 
 district ; for dangerous bands of vagabond deserters had more than 
 once collected, and here and there practiced much violence and wanton 
 mischief. By the good order of our provincial militia, by patroling 
 and prompt watchfulness, the evil was very soon remedied ; but we 
 too quickly relapsed into our former carelessness, and, before we 
 thought of it, new disorders broke forth. 
 
 " For a long time all had been quiet in our neighborhood, and I had 
 traveled peacefully with my ass along the accustomed paths ; till one 
 day passing over a newly-sown glade of the forest, I observed a 
 female form sitting, or rather lying, at the edge of the fence ditch. 
 She seemed to be asleep or in a swoon. I endeavored to recall her ; 
 and as she opened her eyes and sat upright, she cried with eagerness : 
 ' Where is he V Did you see him '? ' I asked, ' Whom ? ' She replied, 
 ' My husband ! ' Considering her extremely youthful appearance, I 
 had not been expecting this reply ; yet I continued, so much the more 
 kindly, to assist her, and assure her of my sympathy. I learned that 
 the two travelers had left their carriage, the road being so heavy.
 
 456 MEISTER'8 TRAVELS. 
 
 and struck into a footpath to make a sliorter cut. Hard by, they had 
 been overtaken by armed marauders ; her husband had gone off jBght- 
 ing with them ; slie, not able to follow him far, had sunk on this 
 spot, and lain there she knew not how long. She pressingly begged 
 of me to leave her, and hasten after her husband. She rose to her 
 feet ; and the fairest, loveliest form stood before me ; yet I could 
 easily observe that she was in a situation in which she might soon 
 require the help of my mother and Frau Elizabeth. We disputed a 
 while ; for I wished, before all, to bring her to some place of safety ; 
 she wished, in the first place, to have tidings of her husband. She 
 would not leave the trace of him ; and all my arguments would, per- 
 haps, have, been unavailing, had not a party of our militia, which the 
 tidings of fresh misdeeds had again called out into service, chanced 
 to pass that way through the forest. These I informed of the mat- 
 ter ; with them the necessary arrangements were made, the place of 
 meeting appointed, and so the business settled for the time. With 
 great expedition I hid my panniers in a neighboring cave, which had 
 often served me before as a repository ; I adjusted my saddle for easy 
 riding, and not without a strange emotion, lifted the fair burden on 
 my willing beast, which knowing of itself what path to choose, left 
 me at liberty to walk by her side. 
 
 " You can figure to yourself, without my describing it at large, in 
 what a strange mood 1 was. What I Lad long been seeking, I had 
 now found. I felt as if I were dreaming, and then again as if I were 
 awakening fi-om a dream. That heavenly form, which I saAv, as it 
 were, hovering in the air, and bending aside from the green branches, 
 now seemed to me like a dream which had risen in my soul through 
 those figures in the chapel. Soon those figures themselves seemed to 
 me to have been only dreams, which were here issuing in a fair real- 
 ity. -I asked her many things ; she answered me softly and kindly, 
 as beseemed a dignified distress. She often desired me, when we 
 reached any open height, to stop, to look round, to listen. She desired 
 me with such grace, with such a deep, wistful look from under her 
 long, black eyelashes that I could not but do whatever lay in my 
 power ; nay, at last I climbed to the top of a high, solitary, branchless 
 pine. Never had this feat of my handicraft been more welcome 
 to me ; never had I with greater joy brought down ribbons and silks 
 from such elevations at festivals and fairs. But for this time, alas, I 
 came back without booty ; above, as below, I could hear or see noth- 
 ing. In the end, she herself called me down, and beckoned to me 
 earnestly with her hand ; nay, at last, as in gliding down, I quitted 
 my hold a considerable way up, and dropped on the ground, she gave 
 a scream, and a sweet kindliness spread over her face as she saw me 
 before her unhurt. 
 
 "Why should I tell you in detail of the hundred attentions with 
 which I strove the whole way to be ])lpasing, to divert Jier thoughts 
 from her grief V Indeed, lunv coiiM IV For it is the very quality of
 
 CHAPTER IV. 457 
 
 true attenfton, that at the moment it makes a nothing all. To my 
 feeling, the flowers which I broke for her, the distant scenes which I 
 showed her, the hills the woods which I named to her, were so many 
 precious treasures which I was giving her to obtain for myself a place 
 among her interests, as one tries to do by presents. 
 
 " Already she had gained me for my whole life, when we reached 
 our destination, at that good old woman's door, and I saw a painful sep- 
 aration close at hand. Once more I ran over all her form, and as my 
 eyes came on her feet, I stooped as if to adjust someting in my girdle, 
 and kissed the daintiest shoe I had ever seen, yet without her noticing 
 me. I helped her doAvn, sprang up the steps, and called in at the 
 door : ' Frau Elizabeth, here is a visitor ! ' The good old woman 
 came down ; and I looked over her shoulders towards the house, as 
 the fair being mounted the steps, with graceful sorrow, and inv'ard 
 painful self -consciousness ; till she gratefully embraced my worthy 
 old woman, and accompanied her into the better chamber. They shut 
 the door, and 1 was left standing outside by my ass, like a man that 
 has delivered a loading of precious wares, and is again as poor a car- 
 rier as before. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE LILT-STALK. 
 
 " I "WAS still lingering in my departure, for I knew not what to do 
 if I were gone, when Frau Elizabeth came to the door, and desired 
 me to send my mother down to her ; and then to go about, and, if 
 possible, get tidings of the husband. ' Mary begs you very mnch to 
 do this,' said she. ' Can I not speak with her again myself '? ' replied 
 I. ' That will not do,' said Elizabeth ; and we parted. In a short time 
 I reached our dwelling ; my mother was ready that same night to go 
 over, and be helpful to the young stranger. I hastened down the 
 country, thinking I should get the surest intelligence at the amtmann's. 
 But the amtmann himself was still in uncertainty ; and as I was 
 known to him, he invited me to pass the night there. It seemed inter- 
 minably long, and still I had the fair form before my eyes, as she sat 
 gently swaying in the saddle, and looking down to me so sorrowful 
 and friendly. Every moment I hoped for news. To the worthy 
 husband I honestly wished life and safety, and yet I liked so well to 
 fancy her a widow ! The ranging troops by little and little col- 
 lected ; and after many variable rumors, the certainty at last came 
 to light, that the carriage was saved, but the hapless traveler dead of 
 his wounds in a neighboring village. I learned also, that according 
 to our first arrangement, some of the party had gone to communicate 
 the melancholy tidings to Frau Elizabeth ; consequently I had noth-
 
 458 MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 ing more to do there. Yet a boundless impatience, an immeasurable 
 longing, drove me over wood and mountain once more to her thres- 
 hold. It was dark ; the door was shut ; I saw light in the room, 
 I saw shadows moving on the curtains ; and thus 1 sat watching on a 
 bench opposite the house ; still on the point of knocking, and still 
 •withheld by many considerations. 
 
 " But why should I go ou describing to you what is in itself of no 
 interest ? In short, next morning too the house was shut against me. 
 They knew the heavy tidings, they needed me no farther ; they sent 
 me to my father, to my work ; they would not answer my inquiries ; 
 they wanted to be rid of me. 
 
 " For eight days this sort of treatment had continued, when at last 
 Frau Elizabeth called me in : ' Step softly, my friend,' said she ; ' but 
 enter without scruple.' She led me into a trim apartment ; where, 
 in the corner, through the half-opened curtains, I saw my fair one 
 dressed, and sitting upright in the bed. Frau Elizabeth went to- 
 wards her as if to announce me ; lifted something from the bed, and 
 brought it me ; wrapt in the whitest swathings, the prettiest boy ! 
 Frau Elizabeth held it straight betwixt the mother and me ; and just 
 then the lily-stalk occurred to me, which in the picture springs from 
 the ground between Joseph and Mary, as witness of their pure rela- 
 tion. From that moment, I was certain of my cause, certain of my 
 happiness. I could approach her with freedom, speak with her, bear 
 her heavenly eye, take the boy on my arm, and imprint a warm kiss 
 on his brow. 
 
 " ' How I thank you for your love to that orphan child ! ' said the 
 mother. Unthinkingly, and briskly, I cried : ' It is no orphan any 
 longer, if you like ! ' 
 
 '• Frau Elizabeth, more prudent than I, took the child from my 
 hands, and got me put away. 
 
 " To this hour, when I chance to be wandering over our mountains 
 and forests, the remembrance of that time forms my happiest enter- 
 tainment. I can still recall the slightest particulars ; which, how- 
 ever, as is fit, I spare you at present. Weeks passed on ; Mary was 
 recovered ; I could see her oftener, my intercourse with her was a 
 train of services and, attentions. Her family circumstances allowed 
 her to choose a residence according to her pleasure. She first stayed 
 with Frau Elizabeth ; then she paid us a visit, to thank my mother 
 and me for so many and such friendly helps. She liked to live with 
 us ; and I flattered myself that it was partly on my account. What 
 I wished to tell her, however, and durst not utter, came to words in 
 a singular and pretty wise, when I took her into the chapel, which I 
 had then fitted up as a habitual apartment. I showed her the pic- 
 tures, and explained them to her one after the other ; and so doing, 
 unfolded the duties of a foster-father in so vivid and cordial a manner, 
 that the tears came into her eyes, and I could not get to the end of 
 my picture exhibition. I thought myself certain of her affection,
 
 CHAPTER IV. 459 
 
 though I was not proud enough to wish so soon to efface the memory 
 of her husband. The law imposes on widows a year of mourning ; 
 and, in truth, such an epoch, which includes in it the change of all 
 earthly things, is necessary for a feeling heart, to alleviate the pain- 
 ful impressions of a great loss. We see the flowers fade and the 
 leaves fall ; but we likewise see fruits ripen, and new buds shoot 
 forth. Life belongs to the living ; and he who lives must be pre- 
 pared for vicissitudes. 
 
 " I now spoke with my mother on the concern which lay so near 
 my heart. She thereupon disclosed to ine how grievous to Mary the 
 death of her husband had been, and how she had borne up and 
 gathered courage again, solely from tlie thought that she must live 
 for her child. My inclination was not unknown to the women ; and 
 already Mary had accustomed herself to the idea of living with us. 
 She stayed a while longer in the neighborhood ; then she came up 
 to us, and we lived for a time in the gentlest and happiest state of 
 betrothment. At last we wedded. That feeling, which had first 
 drawn us together, did not fade away. The duties and joys of the 
 father and the foster-father were united ; and so our little family, 
 as it increased, did certainly surpass its prototype in number of per- 
 sons ; but the virtues of that pattern, in respect to faithfulness and 
 purity of sentiments, were sacredly maintained and practiced by us. 
 And so also in friendly habitude we keep up the external appearance 
 which we, by accident, arrived at, and which fits our internal state 
 so well ; for though all of ns are good walkers, and stout bearers of 
 weight, the beast of burden still remains in our company, when any 
 business or visit takes us through these mountains and valleys. As 
 you met us last night, so does the whole country know us ; and we 
 feel proud that our walk and conversation are of such a sort as not 
 to throw disgrace on the saintly name and figure, whose imitators we 
 profess to be." 
 
 WILHELM TO NATALIA. 
 
 I now conclude a pleasant half -marvelous history, which I have 
 just written down for thee, from the mouth of a very worthy man. 
 If I have not always given his very words ; if here and there, in de 
 scribing his sentiments, I have expressed my own, this, considering 
 the relationship of mind I feel with him, was natural enough. His 
 reverence for his wife, does it not resemble that which I entertain 
 for thee ? And is there not, even in the first meeting of these lovers, 
 something similar to ours? But that he is fortunate enough to walk 
 beside his animal, as it bears the doubly-beautiful burden ; that he 
 can enter at evenings with his family possession through the old 
 cloister-gate ; that he is inseparable from his own loved ones ; in 
 all this I may well secretly envy him. Yet I must not complain of 
 my destiny, seeing I have promised thee that I will suffer and be 
 silent, as thou also hast undertaken.
 
 460 MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 Many a fair feature iu the domestic union of these devout and 
 cheerful persons, I have been obliged to omit ; for how could it be 
 depicted in writing ? Two days have passed over me agreeably ; but 
 the third warns me to be mindful of my farther wayfaring. 
 
 With Felix I had a little quarrel to-day. He was almost for com- 
 pelling me to break through one wholesome regulation, for which I 
 stand engaged to thee. It has been an error, a misfortune, in short 
 an arrangement of fate with me hitherto, that before I am aware, my 
 company increases ; that I take a new burden on my shoulders, 
 which thenceforth I have to bear, and drag along with me. So in 
 my present wanderings no third party is to become a permanent asso- 
 ciate with us. We are, we will and must continue two ; and just 
 now a new, and not very pleasing connection seemed about to be 
 established. 
 
 To the children of the house with whom Felix has gayly passed 
 these days in sporting, there had joined himself a little merry beggar- 
 boy, who, submitting to be used or misused as the play required, had 
 very soon got into favor with Felix. By various hints and expres- 
 sions, I now gathered that the latter had found himself a playmate 
 for the next stage of our journey. The boy is known in this quarter, 
 and everywhere tolerated for his lively humor ; and now and then 
 obtains an alms. Me, however, he did not please, and I desired our 
 host to get him sent away. This likewise took place ; but Felix was 
 angry at it, and we had a little flaw of discord. 
 
 In the course of this affair, I discovered something which was 
 pleasant to me. In the corner of the chapel, or hall, stood a box of 
 stones ; which Felix, who, since our wandering through the moun- 
 tains, has acquired an excessive fondness for minerals, eagerly drew 
 forth and examined. Many pretty eye-catching things were among 
 them. Our landlord said, the child might choose out what he liked : 
 these were the remains of a large collection which a friend had dis- 
 patched thence a short while ago. He called this person Montan ; and 
 thou wilt easily suppose how glad I was to hear this name, under 
 which one of our best friends is traveling, one to whom we owe so 
 -much. Having inquired into date and circumstances, I can now hope 
 to meet him ere long on my pilgrimage. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The news that Montan was in the neighborhood had made Wil- 
 helm reflect. He considered that it ought not to be left to chance 
 alone wliether he should meet with so estimable a friend ; therefore 
 he inquired of his landlord if they did not know towards what quarter 
 this traveler had turned his course. No one had any information on
 
 CHAPTER. V. 461 
 
 tliis point ; and Wilhelm had determined to pursue liis pilgrimage on 
 tlie former plan, when Felix cried : " If father were not so strange, 
 we might soon find Montan." 
 
 " What way ?" said Wilhelm. 
 
 Felix answered : " Little Fitz told us last night that he could trace 
 out the stranger gentleman, who had many fine stones with him, and 
 understood them well." 
 
 After some talking, Wilhelm at last resolved on making the experi- 
 ment ; purposing, in the course of it, to keep so much the sharper 
 watch on the suspicious boy. Fitz was soon found ; and, hearing 
 what was to be done, he soon produced mallet and chisel and a stout 
 hammer, with a little bag ; and set forth, running merrily before the 
 party, in his mining accouterments. 
 
 The way went to a side, and up the mountains. The children 
 skipped on together, from crag to crag, over stock and stone, over 
 brook and bourn ; and without having any path before him, Fitz 
 pressed rapidly upwards, now looking to the right hand, now to the 
 left. As Wilhelm, and especially the laden porter, could not follow 
 so fast, the boys often ran back and forward, singing and whistling. 
 The aspect of some new trees arrested the attention of Felix ; who 
 now for the first time formed acquaintance with larches and fir-cones, 
 and curiously surveyed the strange gentian shrubs. And thus, in 
 their toilsome wandering, there lacked not from time to time a little 
 entertainment. But all at once they were fronted by a barricade of 
 trees, which a storm had hurled together in a confused mass. ' ' This 
 was not in my reckoning," said Fitz. " Wait here till I find my way 
 again ; only have a care of the cave up there : no one goes into it or 
 near it, without getting harm, or having tricks played on him." 
 
 The boy went off in an ascending direction : the porter, on the 
 other hand, grumbling at the excessive difficulty of the way, set 
 down his luggage, and searched sidewards and downwards for some 
 beaten path. 
 
 No sooner did Felix see himself alone with his father, than his 
 curiosity awoke, and he glided softly towards the cave. Wilhelm, 
 who gave him leave, observed after some time that the child was no 
 longer in sight. He himself mounted to the cave, at the mouth of 
 which he had last seen the boy ; and, on entering, he found the place 
 empty. It was spacious, but could be taken in at a glance. He 
 searched for some other outlet, and found none. The matter began 
 to be serious. He took the whistle, which he wore at his button- 
 hole ; an answer to his call came sounding out of the depth, so that 
 he was uncertain whether he should take it for an echo ; when, 
 shortly afterwards, Felix peeped out of the ground ; for the chink 
 through which he looked was scarcely wide enough to let through 
 his head. 
 
 " What art thou about there?" cried the father. 
 
 " Hush ! " said Felix ; "art thou alone 1"
 
 463 MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 "Quite alone," answered Wilhelm. 
 
 " Then go quick," cried the boy, " and fetch me a couple of stroiig 
 clubs." 
 
 Wilhelm went to the fallen timber, and with his hanger cut off a 
 pair of thick staves ; Felix took them, and vanished, having first 
 called to his father : " Let no one into the cave ! " 
 
 After some time, Felix cried : " Another pair of staves, and larger 
 ones!" With these also his father provided him, and waited anx- 
 iously for the solution of his riddle. At length the boy issued rap- 
 idly from the cleft, and brought a little box with him, not larger than 
 an octavo volume ; of rich, antique appearance ; it seemed to be of 
 gold, decorated with enamel. " Put it up, father," said the boy, 
 "and let none see it!" Wilhelm had not time to ask many ques- 
 tions ; for they already heard the call of the returning porter ; and 
 scarcely had they joined him, when the little squire also began to 
 shout and wave from above. 
 
 On their approach, he cried out : " Montan is not far off ; I bet we 
 shall soon meet him." 
 
 " How canst thou know this," said W'ilhelm, " in so wild a forest, 
 where no human being leaves any trace behind him ? " 
 
 " That is my knack," said Fitz ; and, like a will-o'-wi.sp, he hopped 
 off hither and thither, in a side direction, to lead his masters the 
 strangest road. 
 
 Felix, in the meanwhile, highly satisfied in the treasure he had 
 found, highly delighted at possessing a secret, kept close by his 
 father, without, as formerly, skipping up and down beside his com- 
 rade. He nodded to Wilhelm with sparkling eyes ; glancing towards 
 his companion, and making significant faces, to indicate how much 
 he was above Fitz now, in possessing a secret entirely wanting to the 
 other. He carried it so far at length, that Fitz, who often stopped 
 and looked about, must very soon have noticed it. Wilhelm there- 
 fore said to Felix : " My son, whoever wishes to keep a secret, must 
 hide from us that he possesses one. Self-complaisance over the con- 
 cealed destroys its concealment." Felix restrained himself ; but his 
 former gay free manner to his comrade he could pot now attain. 
 
 All at once little Fitz stood still. He beckoned the rest to him : 
 " Do you hear a beating? " said he. "It is the sound of a hammer 
 striking on the rock." 
 
 " We hear it," answered they. 
 
 " That is Montan," said he, " or some one who will tell us of him." 
 
 Following the sound, which was repeated from time to time, they 
 reached an opening in the wood ; and perceived a steep high naked 
 rock, towering over all the rest, leaving even the lofty forest deep be- 
 neath it. On the top of it they descried a man ; he was too far off 
 to be recognized. Immediately the boys set about ascending the 
 precipitous path. Wilhelm followed with some difficulty, nay, dan- 
 ger ; for the person that climbs a rock foremost always proceeds
 
 CHAPTER V. 463 
 
 with more safety, because he can look out for his conveuieuces ; he 
 who comes after sees only whither the other has arrived, but not how. 
 The boys soon reached the top ; and Wilhelm heard a shout of joy. 
 " It is Jarno," cried Felix to his father ; and Jarno immediately came 
 forward to a rugged spot ; stretched out his hand to his friend, and 
 drew him up. They embraced, and welcomed each other into the 
 free skyey air, with the rapture of old friends. 
 
 But scarcely had they stepped asunder, when a giddiness came over 
 Wilhelm ; not so much on his own account, as at seeing the boys 
 hanging over the frightful abyss. Jarno observed it, and immedi- 
 ately bade all sit down. " Nothing is more natural," said he, " than 
 that we should grow giddy at a great sight, which comes unexpectedly 
 before us, to make us feel at once our littleness and our greatness. 
 But there is not in the world any truer enjoyment, than at the mo- 
 ment when we are so made giddy for the first time." 
 
 "Are these, then, down there, the great mountains we climbed 
 over?" inquired Felix. "How little they look! And here," con- 
 tinued he, loosening a crumb of stone from the rock, " is the old cat- 
 gold again ; this is found everywhere, I suppose V" 
 
 " It is found far and wide," answered Jarno: "and as thou art 
 asking after such things, I may bid thee notice, that thou art now 
 sitting on the oldest mountain, on the earliest rock of this world." 
 
 " Was the world not made at once, then ? " said Felix. 
 
 " Hardly," answered Jarno ; " good bread needs baking." 
 
 " Down there," said Felix, " is another sort of rock ; and there 
 again another, and still again another," cried he, pointing from the 
 nearest mountains to the more remote, and so downwards to the 
 plain. 
 
 It was a beautiful day, and Jarno let them survey the lordly pros- 
 pect in detail. Here and there stood several other peaks, similar to 
 the one our travelers were on. A scondary moderate range of moun- 
 tains seemed as if struggling up, but did not by far attain that 
 height. Farther off, the surface flattened still more ; yet again some 
 .strangely-protruding forms rose to view. At last, in the remote dis- 
 tance, lakes were visible, and rivers ; and a fruitful country spread 
 itself out like a sea. And when the eye came back, it pierced into 
 frightful depths, sounding with cataracts, and connected with each 
 other in labyrinthic combination. 
 
 Felix could not satisfy himself with questions, and Jarno was kind 
 enough to answer all of them : in which, however, Wilhelm Uiought 
 he noticed that the teacher did not always speak quite truly and sin- 
 cerely. So, after the unstaid boys had again clambered off, Wilhelm 
 said to his friend : " Thou hast not spoken with the child, about these 
 matters, as thou speakest to thyself." / 
 
 " That indeed were a heavy requisition," answered Jarno. " We'i 
 do not always speak, even to ourselves, as we think ; and it is not fit ] 
 to tell others anything but what they can take' up. A man under- \
 
 464 MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 stands notMng but what is commensurate witli him. To fix a child's 
 attention on what is present ; to give him a description, a name, is 
 the best thing we can do for him. He will soon enough begin to in- 
 quire after causes." 
 
 " One cannot blame this latter tendency," observed Wilhelm. 
 " The multiplicity of objects perplexes every one ; and it is easier, 
 instead of investigating them, to ask directly, whence and whither? " 
 
 " And yet," said Jarno, " as children look at what is present only 
 superficially, we cannot speak with them of origin and object other- 
 wise than superficially also." 
 
 " Most men," answered Wilhelm, " continue all their days in this 
 predicament ; and never reach that glorious epoch, in which the com- 
 prehensible appears to us common and insipid. " 
 
 "It may well be called glorious," answered Jarno; "for it is a 
 middle stage between despair and deification." 
 
 " Let us abide by the boy," said Wilhelm, " who is at present my 
 first care. He has somehow got a fondness for minerals, since we 
 began this journey. Canst thou not impart so much to me as would 
 put in my power to satisfy him, at least for a time?" 
 
 " That will not do," said Jarno. " In every new department, one 
 must, in the first place, begin again as a child ; throw a passionate 
 interest over the subject ; take pleasure in the shell, till one has the 
 happiness to arrive at the kernel." 
 
 "Tell me, then," said Wilhelm, "how hast thou attained this 
 knowledge? For it is not so very long, after all, since we parted." 
 
 " My friend," said Jarno, " we were forced to resign ourselves, if 
 not forever, at least for a long season. The first thing that occurs to 
 a stout-hearted man, under such circumstances, is to begin a new 
 life. New objects will not suffice him ; these serve only for diver- 
 sion of thought ; he requires a new whole, and plants himself in the 
 \ middle of it." 
 
 "But why, then," interrupted Wilhelm, "choose this strangest 
 and loneliest of all pursuits ? " 
 
 " Even because of its loneliness," cried Jarno. " Men I wished to 
 avoid. To them we can give no help, and they hinder us from help- 
 ing ourselves. Are they happy, we must let them persevere in their 
 stolidities ; are they unhappy, we must save them without disturb- 
 ing these stolidities ; and no one ever asks whether thou art happy 
 or unhappy." 
 
 "It is not quite so bad with them, surely," answered Wilhelm 
 smiling. r '" 
 
 " I will not talk thee out of thy happiness," said Jarno. *' Go on 
 thy way, thou second Diogenes ! Let not thy lamp in daylight go out ! 
 Down on that side lies a new world before thee ; but I dare wager, 
 things stand there as in the old one, If thou canst not pimp and pay 
 debts, thou availest nothing."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 465 
 
 "Yet they seem to me more entertaining than thy dead rocks," 
 said Willi elm. 
 
 " Not they ! " answered Jarno ; " for my rocks are at least incom- 
 prehensible," 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The two friends had descended, not without care and labor, to 
 reach the children, who were now lying in a shady spot down below. 
 With almost greater eagerness than their picnic repast, the collected 
 rock-specimeus were unpacked by Montan and Felix. The latter had 
 much to ask, the former much to nominate. Felix was delighted that 
 his new teacher could give him names for all, and he speedily com- 
 mitted them to memory. At length he produced another specimen, 
 and asked : " What do you call this then?" 
 
 Montan viewed it with surprise, and said : " Where did you get it ? " 
 
 Fitz answered promptly : " I found it myself ; it is of this coun- 
 try." 
 
 " Not of this quarter," said Montan. Feliz rejoiced to see his 
 master somewhat puzzled. "Thou shalt have a ducat," said Mon- 
 ^tan, " if thou bring me to the spot where it lies." 
 
 " That is easy to earn," answered Fitz ; " but not immediately." 
 
 " Then describe the place to me accurately, that I may not fail to 
 find it ; but the thing is impossible ; for this is a cross-stone, which 
 comes from Santiago in Compostella, and which some stranger has 
 lost ; if indeed thou hast not stolen it from him, for its curious look." 
 
 " Give your ducat into my master's hands," s^id Fitz, "and I will 
 honestly confess where I got the stoue. In the ruined church at St. 
 Joseph, there is likewise a ruined altar. Under the top-stones, 
 which are all broken and heaped together, I discovered a layer of 
 this rock, which has been the foundation of the other ; and broke off 
 from it as much as I could come at. If the upper stones were cleared 
 away, one might find much more of it there." 
 
 "Take thy ducat," said Montan ; " thou deservest it for this dis- 
 covery. It is pretty enough. Men naturally rejoice when inanimate 
 nature produces any likeness of what they love and reverence. Na- 
 ture tlien appears to us in the form of a sibyl, who has beforehand 
 laid down a testimony of what had been determined from eternity, 
 and was not to be realized till late in time. On this rock, as on a 
 sacred mysterious primeval basis, the priests had built their altar." 
 
 Wilhelm, who had listened for a while, and observed that many 
 names, many designations, were repeatedly mentioned, again signi- 
 fied his former wish, that Montan would impart to him so much as 
 was required for the primary instruction of the boy. " Give that
 
 466 MEISTEB'S TRAVELS. 
 
 up," replied Montan. " There is nothing more frightful than a 
 teacher who knows only what his scholars are intended to knoW; 
 He who means to teaCh others, may indeed ofteti suppress thfe best 
 of what he knows ; but he must not be half-iustructedl^ 
 
 '* But where are such perfect teachers to be had ?" 
 
 " These thou wilt find very easily," replied Montan. 
 
 " Where, then?" said Wilhelm, with some unbelief. 
 
 " Where the thing thou art wishing to learn is in practice," said 
 Montan. "Our best instruction we obtain from complete convers 
 ance. Dost thou not learn foreign languages best in the countries 
 where they are at home ?— where only these and no other strike thy 
 ear?" 
 
 " And so it was among the mountains," inquired Wilhelm, " that 
 \j;hy knowledge of mountains was acquired ? " 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 " Without help from men?" 
 
 "At least only from men who were miners. There, where the 
 Pygmies, allured by the metallic veins, bore through the rock, mak- 
 ing the interior of the earth accessible and in a thousand ways 
 endeavoring to solve the hardest problems ; there is the place where au 
 inquiring thinker ought to take his stand. He looks on action and 
 effort ; watches the progress of enterprises ; and rejoices in the suc- 
 cessful and the unsuccessful. What is useful forms but a part of 
 the important. Fully to possess, to command, and rule an object, we*' 
 must first study it for its own sake." 
 
 " Is there such a place in the neighborhood ?" said Wilhelm. " 1 
 should like to take Felix thither." 
 
 "The question I can answer in the affirmative," replied Montan ; 
 " the project not exactly assent to. At least, I must first tell thee that 
 thou hast the power of choosing among many other branches of 
 activity, of knowledge, of art, for thy Felix ; some of which might, 
 perhaps, suit him better than this sudden fancy which he has taken 
 up at the moment, most probably from mere imitation." 
 
 " Explain thyself more clearly," interrupted Wilhelm. 
 
 " Thou must know, then," said Montan, " that we are here on the 
 borders of a province, which 1 might justly call a pedagogic Utopia. 
 In the conviction that only one thing can be carried on, tauglil and 
 communicated with full advantages, several such points of active 
 instruction have been, as it were, sown over a large tract of country. 
 At each of these places thou wilt find a little world, but so complete 
 within its limitation, that it may represent and model any other of 
 these worlds, nay, the great busy world itself." 
 
 " I do not altogether comprehend what thou canst mean by this," 
 interrupted Wilhelm. 
 
 " Thou shalt soon comprehend it," said the other. " As down, not 
 far from this, among the mountains, thou wilt, in the first place, 
 find collected round a mass of metalliferous rocks, whatever is of
 
 CHAPTEH ri. 467 
 
 use for enabling man to appropriate these treasures of nature, and, 
 at tlie same time, to acquire general conceptions of molding the rug- 
 gedness of inanimate things more dexterously to his own purposes ; 
 so, down in the lowest level, far out on the plain, where the soil 
 spreads into large meadows and pastures, thou wilt find establish- 
 ments for managing another important treasure which nature has 
 given to men." 
 
 " And this ? " inquired Wilhelm. 
 
 " Is the horse," replied the other. " In that last quarter thou art 
 in the midst of everything which can instruct one on the training, 
 diet, growth, and likewise employment of this noble animal. As in 
 these hills all are busy digging, boring, climbing, so there nothing 
 is more anxiously attended to than the young brood, springing, as it 
 were, out of the ground ; and every one is occupied foddering, graz- 
 ing, driving, leading, curbing them, mounting their backs, and in all 
 sorts of movements, natural and artificial, coursing with them over 
 the plain." 
 
 Felix, who had approached in the deepest attention, exclaimed, in- 
 terrupting him: "0, thither will we! That is the prettiest, the 
 best of all." 
 
 " It is far thither," answered Jarno ; "and thou wilt find some- 
 thing more agreeable and suitable, perhaps, by the way. Any 
 species of activity," continued he, "attracts the fondness of a child ; 
 for everything looks easy that is practiced to perfection. All begin- 
 nings are hard, says the proverb. This, in a certain sense, may be 
 true ; but we might say, with a more universal application : All be- 
 ginnings are easy ; and it is the last steps that are climbed most rarely 
 and with greatest difficulty." 
 
 Wilhelm, who had been reflecting in the meanwhile, now said to 
 Montan : " Is it actually so, as thou sayest, that these people have 
 separated the various sorts of activity, both in the practice and teach- 
 ing of them ? " 
 
 " They have done it," said Montan; "and with reason. What- 
 ever any man has to effect must emanate from him like a second 
 self ; and how could this be possible, were not his first self entirely 
 pervaded by it ? " 
 
 " Yet has not a general culture been reclconed very advantageous ? " 
 
 " It may really be so," replied the other : " everything fn its time. 
 Xow is the time of specialties. Happy he who understands this, and 
 works for himself and others in that spirit." 
 
 " In my spirit it cannot be," replied Wilhelm ; " but tell me, if I 
 thought of sending Felix for a while into one of these circles, which 
 wouldst thou recommend to me ? " 
 
 " It is all one," said Jarno. " You cannot readily tell which way 
 a child's capacity particularly points. For me, I should still advise 
 the merriest trade. Take him to those horse-subduers. Beginning 
 as a groom is in truth little easier than beginning as an ore-beater ;
 
 468 MEISTEtt'S TRAVELS. 
 
 but the prospect is always gayer ; you can hope, at least, to get 
 through the world riding." 
 
 It is easy to conceive that Wilhelm had many other doubts to 
 state, and many farther explanations to require : these Jarno settled 
 in his usual laconic way ; but at last he broke out as follows : " In 
 all things to serve from the lowest station upwards is necessary. To 
 restrict yourself to a trade is best. -For the narrow mind, whatever 
 he attempts is still a trade ; for the higher an art ; and the highest, 
 in doing one thing does all ; or, to speak less paradoxically, in the one 
 thing which he does rightly, he sees the likeness of all that is done 
 rightly. Take thy Felix," continued he, " through the province ; let 
 the dii^ectors see him ; they will soon judge him and dispose of him 
 to the best advantage. The boy should be placed among his equals, 
 otherwise he seeks them for himself, and then, in his associates, 
 finds only flatterers or tyrants." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The third day being over, the friends, in conformity to the engage- 
 ment of our Reuunciants, had to part ; and Jarno declared he would 
 now fly so far into the waste mountains that no one should be able to 
 discover him. "There is nothing more frightful," said he, "in a 
 state like ours, than to meet an old true friend, to whom we can com- 
 municate our thoughts without reserve. So long as one is by himself 
 one fancies there is no end to the novelties and wonders he is study- 
 ing ; but let the two talk a while tog^etUer, right from the heart ; one 
 sees how soon all this is exhausted. Nothing is endless but inanity. 
 Clever people soon explain themselves to one another, and then they 
 have done^' But new I will dive into the chasms of the rocks, and^ 
 with them begin a mute, unfathomable conversation. -' 
 
 " Have a care," said Wilhelm, smiling, " lest Fitz come upon thy 
 track. This time, at least, he succeeded in finding thee." 
 
 " How didst thou manage that?" said Montan. " After all, it was 
 only chance." 
 
 " Not in the least," answered Fitz. "I will tell you my secret for 
 a fair consideration. You mineralogists, wherever you go, keep 
 striking to the right and left ; from every stone, from every rock, 
 breaking off a piece, as if gold and silver were hid in them. One 
 has but to follow this trace ; and where any corner shows a fresh 
 breakage, there some of you have been. One notes and notes, forward 
 and forward, and at last comes upon the man." 
 
 Fitz was praised and rewarded. The friends parted ; Montan alone, 
 the little caravan in company. Wilhelm had settled the place they 
 should make for. The porter proposed a road to it ; but the children
 
 CHAPTER VII. 469 
 
 had taken a fancy for looking, by tlie way, at tlie Giant's Castle, of 
 which Fitz had talked so much. Felix was curious about the large 
 black piUars, the great door, the cellar, the caves and vaults ; and 
 hopetl he might perhaps find something there, something of even 
 greater value than the box. 
 
 How he came by this, he had, in the interim, informed his father. 
 Creeping through the cleft, it appeared, he had got down into an open 
 space pretty well lighted ; and noticed in the corner of it a large iron 
 cliest, the lid of which, though it was not locked, he could not lift, 
 but only raise a very little. To get into this, he had called to his 
 father for the staves, which he had employed partly as props under 
 the lid, partly as levers to heave it up ; and so at length, forcing his 
 way into the chest, had found it wholly empty, except for the little 
 box which was lying in one of the nooks. This toy they had shown 
 Moutan, who agreed with them in opinion, that it should be kept 
 unopened, and no violence done to it ; for it could not be unlocked 
 except by a very complicated key. 
 
 The porter declined going with the rest to the Giant's Castle, and 
 proceeded down the smooth footpath by himself. The others toiled 
 after Fitz, through moss and tangle ; and at length reached the 
 natural colonnade, which, towering over a huge mass of fragments, 
 rose black and wondrous into the air. Yet, without much regarding 
 what he saw before his eyes, Felix instantly began inquiring for the 
 other promised marvels ; and as none of them was to be seen, Fitz 
 could excuse himself no otherwise than by declaring that these things 
 were never visible except on Sundays and particular festivals, and 
 then only for a few hours. The boys remained convinced that the 
 Pillared Palace was a work of men's hands. Wilhelm saw well that 
 it was a work of nature ; but he could have wished for Montan to 
 speak with on the subject. 
 
 They now proceeded rapidly down hill, through a wood of high taper 
 larches ; which becoming more and more transparent, ere long exposed 
 to view the fairest spot you can imagine, lying in the clearest sun- 
 shine. 
 
 A large garden, seemingly appropriated to use, not ornament, lay 
 richly furni.shed with fruit-trees, yet open before their eyes ; for the 
 ground, sloping on the whole, had been regularly cut into a number 
 of divisions, now raised, now hollowed in manifold variety, and thus 
 exhibited a complex waving surface. Several dwelling-houses stood 
 scattered up and down, so that it seemed as if the space belonged to 
 several proprietors ; yet Fitz assured them, that one individual owned 
 and directed the whole. Beyond the garden stretched a boundless 
 landscape, beautifully cultivated and planted, in which lakes and rivei's 
 might be distinguished in the distance. 
 
 Still descending, they had ajiproached nearer and nearer, and were 
 now expecting in a few moments to be in the garden, when Wilhelm 
 all at once stopped short, and Fitz could not hide his roguish satisfac-
 
 470 MEI8TER' 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 tion ; for a yawning chasm at the foot of the mountain opened before 
 them, and showed on the other side a wall which had hitherto been 
 concealed, steep enough without, though within it was quite filled up 
 with soil. A deep trench, therefore, separated them from the garden, 
 into which they were directly looking. " We have still a good circuit 
 to make," said Fitz, " before we get the road that leads in. However, 
 I know an entrance on this side, which is much shorter. The vaults 
 where the hill-water in time of rain is let through, in regular quantities 
 into the garden, open here ; they are high and broad enough for one 
 to walk along without difficulty." The instant Felix heard of vaults, 
 he insisted on taking this passage and no other. Wilhelm followed 
 the children ; and the party descended the large steps of this covered 
 aqueduct, which was now lying quite dry. Down below, they found 
 themselves sometimes in light, sometimes in darkness, according as 
 the side openings admitted day, or the walls and pillars excluded it. 
 At last they reached a pretty even space, and were slowly proceeding, 
 when all at once a shot went off beside them, and at the same time two 
 secret iron-grated doors started out, and inclosed them on both sides. 
 Not indeed the whole of them ; Wilhelm and Felix only were caught. 
 For Fitz, the instant he heard the shot, sprang back, and the closing 
 grate caught nothing but his wide sleeve ; he himself nimbly throw- 
 in off his jacket, had darted away without loss of a moment. 
 
 The two prisoners had scarcely time to recover from their aston- 
 ishment, till they heard voices which appeared to be slowly approach- 
 ing. In a little while, some armed men with torches came forward 
 to the grate, looking with eager eyes what sort of capture they had 
 made. At the same time, they asked, if the prisoners would surren- 
 der peaceably? "Surrender is not the word here," said Wilhelm ; 
 " we are already in your power. It is rather our part to ask, whether 
 you will spare us ? The only weapon we have, I give up to you. " 
 And with these words he handed his hanger through the grate ; this 
 opened directly, and the two strangers were led forward by the party, 
 with great composure. After a short while, they found themselves 
 in a singular place ; it was a spacious cleanly apartment, with many 
 little windows at the very top of the walls ; and these, notwithstand- 
 ing the tliick iron gratings, admitted light enough. Seats, sleeping- 
 places, and whatever else is expected in a middling inn, had been 
 provided ; and it seemed as if any one placed here could want nothing 
 but freedom. 
 
 Wilhelm, directly after entering, had sat down to consider his situ- 
 ation ; Felix, on the other hand, on recovering from his astonishment, 
 broke out into an incredible fury. The.se large walls, these high 
 windows, these strong doors, this seclusion, this restriction, were en- 
 tirely new to him. He looked round and round, he ran hither and 
 thither ; stamped with his feet, wept, rattled the doors, struck against 
 them with Iws fists, nay, was even on the point of running at them 
 with his head, had not Wilhelm seized him, and held him fast be-
 
 GSAtTEB ril. 471 
 
 tween his knees ". " Do but look at the thing calmly, tny son)*' be^aii 
 he; " for impatience and violence cannot help us. The mystery will 
 clear up, and I must be widely mistaken,, or Nve are fallen into no 
 wicked hands. Read these inscriptions : ' To the innocent, deliver- 
 ance and reparation ; to the misled, compassion ; and to the guilty, 
 avenging justice.' All this bespeaks to us that these establishments 
 are works not of cruelty, but of necessity. Men have but too niiitth 
 cause to secure themselves from men. Of ill-wishers there are many, 
 of ill-doers not few ; and to live fitly, well-doing will not always suf- 
 fice." Felix still sobbed ; but he had pacified himself in some de- 
 gree, more by the caresses than the words of his father. " Let this 
 experience," continued VVilhelm, "which thou gainest so early, and 
 so innocently, remain a lively testimony to thy mind, in how com- _ 
 plete and accomplished a century thou livest. What a journey had 
 human nature to travel, before it reached the point of being mild 
 even to the guilty, merciful to the injurious, humane to the inhuman ! 
 Doubtless they were men of godlike souls who first taught this, who 
 spent their lives in rendering the practice of it possible, and recom- 
 mending it to others. Of the beautiful men are seldom capable, 
 oftener of the good ; and how highly should we value those who 
 endeavor, with great sacrifices, to forward that good among their 
 fellows ! " 
 
 Felix, in the course of this consolatory speech, had fallen quietly 
 asleep on his father's bosom ; and scarcely had the latter laid him 
 down on one of the ready-made beds, when the door opened, and a 
 man of prepossessing appearance stepped in. After looking kindly 
 at Wilhelm for some time, he began to inquire about the circumstances 
 which had led him by the private passage, and into this predicament. 
 Wilhelm related the affair as it stood ; produced some papers, which 
 served to explain who he was, and referred to the porter, who, he 
 said, must soon arrive on the other side by the usual road. This 
 being so far explained, the official person invited his guest to follow 
 him. Felix could not be awakened, and his father carried him asleep 
 from the place which had incited him to such violent passion. 
 
 Wilhelm followed his conductor into a fair garden apartment, where 
 refreshments were set down, which he was invited to partake of, 
 while the other went to report the state of matters to his superior. 
 When Felix, on awakening, perceived a little covered table, fruit, 
 wine, biscuit, and at the same time the cheerful aspect of a wide-open 
 door, he knew not what to make of it. He ran out, he ran back, he 
 thought he had been dreaming ; and in a little while, with such dainty 
 fare and such pleasant sights, the preceding terror and all his obstruc- 
 tion had vanished, like an oppressive vision in the brightness of morn- 
 ing. 
 
 The porter had arrived ; the officer, with another man of a still 
 friendlier aspect, brought him in ; and the business now came to 
 light, as follows : The owner of this property, charitable in this
 
 472 MEI8TER' 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 higher sense, that he studied to awaken all round him to activity and 
 effort, had for several years been accustomed, from his boundless 
 young plantations, to give out the small wood to diligent and careful 
 cultivators, gratis ; to the negligent, for a certain price ; and to such 
 as wished to trade in it, likewise at a moderate valuation. But these 
 two latter classes also had required their supplies gratis, as the mer- 
 itorious were treated ; and this being refused them, they had attempted 
 stealing trees. Their attempt succeeded in many ways. This vexed 
 the owner the more, as not only were the plantations plundered, but, 
 by too early thinning, often ruined. It had been discovered that the 
 thieves entered by this aqueduct ; so the trap-grate had been erected 
 in the place with a spring gun, which, however, was only meant for 
 a signal. The little boy had, under various pretexts, often made his 
 appearance in the garden ; and nothing was more natural, than that, 
 out of mischief and audacity, he should lead the stranger by a road 
 which he had formerly discovered for other purposes. The people 
 could liave wished to get hold of him : meanwhile his little jacket 
 was brought in, and put by among other judicial seizures. 
 
 Wilhelm was now made acquainted with the owner and his people, 
 and by them received with the friendliest welcome. Of this family 
 we shall say nothing more here, as some fartlier light on them and 
 their concerns is offered us by the subsequent history. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 WILHELM TO NATALIA. 
 
 Man is of a companionable, conversing nature : his delight is great 
 when he exercises faculties that have been given him, even though 
 nothing farther came of it. How often in societ_v do we hear the com- 
 plaint, that one will not let the other speak ; and in the same manner 
 also we might say, that one would not let the otlier write, were not 
 writing an employment commonly transacted in private and alone. 
 
 How much people write one could scarcely ever conjecture. I 
 speak not of what is printed, though that in itself is abundant enough ; 
 but of all that, in the shape of letters and memorials and narratives, 
 anecdotes, descri])tions of present circumstances in the life of individ- 
 uals, sketches and larger essays, circulate in secret ; of this you can 
 form no idea till you have lived for some time in a community of 
 cultivated families, as I am now doing. In the sphere where I am 
 moving at present, there is almost as much time employed in inform- 
 ing friends and relatives of what is transacted, as was employed in 
 transacting it. This observation, which for several weeks has been 
 constantly forced on me, I now make with the more pleasure, as the
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 47S 
 
 Writing tendency of my new friends enables me at once and perfectly 
 to get acquainted with their characters and circumstances. I am 
 trusted ; a sheaf of letters is given to me, some quires of a traveling 
 journal, the confessions of some mind not yet in unity with itself ; 
 and thus everywhere, in a little while, I am at home. I know the 
 neighboring circle, I know the persons whose acquaintance I am to 
 obtain ; I understand them better almost than they do themselves, 
 seeing they are still implicated in their situation, while I hover lightly 
 past them, ever with thy hand in mine, ever speaking with thee 
 about all I see. Indeed it is the first condition I make, before accept- 
 ing any confidence offered me, that I may impart it to thee. Here, 
 accordingly, are some letters, which will introduce thee into the cir- 
 cle, in which, without breaking or evading my vow, I for the present 
 revolve. 
 
 THE NUT-BROWN MAID 
 
 LEXAKDO TO HIS AUXT. 
 
 At last, dear aunt, after three years, you receive my first letter, 
 conformably to our engagement, which, in truth, was singular enough. 
 I wished to see the world and mingle in it ; and wished, during that 
 period, to forget the home whence 1 had departed, whither I hoped 
 to return. The whole impression of this home I purposed to retain, 
 and the partial and individual was not to confuse me at a distance. 
 Meanwhile the necessary tokens of life and welfare have, form time 
 to time, passed to and fro between us. I have regularly received 
 money ; and little presents for my kindred have been delivered you 
 for distribution. By the wares I sent, you would see how and where 
 I was. By the wines, I doubt not my uncle has tasted out my several 
 places of abode ; then the laces, nicknacks, steel-wares, would indi- 
 cate to my fair cousins my progress through Brabant, by Paris, to 
 London ; and so, on their writing-desks, work-boxes, tea-tables, I 
 shall find many a symbol wherewith to connect the history of my 
 journeyings. You have accompanied me without hearing of me ; and 
 perhaps may care little about knowing more. For me, on the other 
 hand, it is highly desirable to learn, through your kindness, how it 
 stands with the circle into which I am once more entering. I would, 
 in truth, return from strange countries as a stranger ; who, that lie 
 may not be unpleasant, first informs himself about the way and man- 
 ner of the household ; not fancying that, for his fine eyes or hair, he 
 shall be received there quite in his own fasliion. Write to me, there- 
 fore, of my worthy uncle, of your fair nieces, of yourself, of our 
 relations near and distant, of servants also, old and new. In short, 
 let your practiced pen, which for so long a time you have not dipped 
 into ink for your nephew, now again tint paper in his favor. Your 
 letter of news shall forthwith be my credential, with which I intro- 
 duce myself so soon as I obtain it. On you, therefore, it depends
 
 474 MEI8TER' 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 whether you will see me or not. ' We alter far less than we imagine ; 
 and circumstances, too, continue much as they were. \ Not only what 
 has altered, but what has continued, what has by degrees waxed and 
 waned, do I now wish instantly to recognize at my return, and so 
 once more to see myself in a well-known mirror. Present my hearti- 
 est salutations to all our people ; and believe, that in the singular 
 manner of my absence and my return, there may lie more true affec- 
 tion than is often found in constant participation and lively intercourse. 
 A thousand compliments to one and all ! 
 
 Postscript. — Neglect not also, my dear aunt, to say a word or two 
 about our dependents ; how it stands with our .stewards and farmers. 
 What is come with Valerina, the daughter of that farmer, whom my 
 uncle, with justice certainly, but also, as I thought, with some seve- 
 rity, ejected from his lands when I went away ? You see, 1 still re- 
 member many a particular ; I still know all. On the past you shall 
 examine me, when you have told me of the present. 
 
 THE AUNT TO JULIETTA. 
 
 At last, dear children, a letter from our three-years speechless trav- 
 eler. What strange beings these strange men are ! He will have it 
 that his wares and tokens were as good as so many kind words, which 
 friend may speak or write to friend. He actually fancies himself our 
 creditor, requires from us, in the first place, the performance of that 
 service, which he so unkindly refused. What is to be done 1 For me, 
 I should have met his wishes forthwith in a long letter, did not this 
 headache signify too clearly that the present sheet can scarcely be 
 filled. We all long to see him. Do you, my dears, undertake the 
 business. Should 1 be recovered before you have done, I will con- 
 tribute my share. Choose the persons and circumstances, as you like 
 best to describe them. Divide the task. You will do it all far better 
 than I. The messenger will bring me back a note from you. 
 
 JULIETTA TO HER AUNT. 
 
 We have read and considered ; and now send you by the messenger 
 our view of the matter, each in particular ; having first jointly sig- 
 nified that we are not so charitable as our dear aunt to her ever- 
 perverse nephew. Now, when he has kept his cards hid from us for 
 three years, and still keeps them hid, we forsooth are to spread ours 
 on the table, and play an open against a secret game. This is not fair ; 
 and yet let it pass ; for the craftiest is often caught, simply by his 
 own over-anxious precautions. But as to the way and manner of 
 transacting this commission, we are not agreed. To write of our 
 familiars as we ti:>ink of them, is for us at least a very strange prob- 
 lem. Commonly we do not think of them at all, except in this or that 
 particular case, when they give us some peculiar satisfaction or vex- 
 ation. At other times, each lets his neighbor go his way. You alone 
 could manage it, dear aunt, for you have both the penetration and the 
 tolerance. Hersilia, who you know is not difficult to kindle, has just,
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 475 
 
 on the spur of the moment, given me a bird's-eye view of the whole 
 family in all the graces of caricature. I wish it stood on paper, to 
 entice a smile from yourself in your illness ; but not that I would have 
 it sent. My own project is, to lay before him our correspondence for 
 these three years ; then let him read, if he have the heart ; or let him 
 come and see with his eyes, if he have not. Your letters to me, dear 
 aunt, are in the best order, and all at your service. Hersilia dissents 
 from this opinion ; excuses herself with the disorder of her papers, 
 and so forth, as she will tell you herself. 
 
 HERSILIA TO HER AUNT. 
 
 I will and must be very brief, dear aunt, for the messenger is clown- 
 ishly impatient. I reckon it an excess of generosity, and not at all in 
 season, to submit our correspondence to Lenardo. What has he to do 
 with knowing all the good we have said of him, with knowing all the 
 ill we have said of him, and finding out from the latter still more than 
 from the former that we like him V Hold him tight, I entreat you. 
 There is something so precise and presumptuous in this demand, in 
 this conduct of his ; just the fashion of your young gentlemen when 
 they return from foreign parts. They can never look on those who 
 have stayed at home as full-grown persons, like themselves. Make 
 your headache an excuse. He will come, doubtless ; and if he do not 
 come, we can wait a little. Perhaps his next idea may be to introduce 
 himself in some strange secret way, to become acquainted with us in 
 disguise ; and who knows what more may be included in the plan of 
 so deep a gentleman? How pretty and curious this would be ! It 
 could not fail to bring about all manner of embroilments and develop- 
 ments ; far grander than any that could be produced by such a diplo- 
 matic entrance into his family as he now purposes. 
 
 The messenger ! The messenger ! Bring up your old people better, 
 or send your young ones. This man is neither to be pacified with 
 flattery nor wine. A thousand farewells ! 
 
 Poiitscript for Postscript. — What does our cousin want, will you 
 tell me, with his postscript of Valerina "? This question of his has 
 struck me doubly. She is the only person whom he mentions by 
 name. The rest of us are nieces, aunts, stewards ; not persons but 
 titles. Valerina, our lawyer's daughter ! In truth, a pretty, fair- 
 haired girl, that may have glanced in our gallant cousin's eyes before 
 he went away. She is married well and happily ; this to you is no 
 news ; but to him it is, of course, as unknown as everything that 
 has occurred here. Forget not to inform him, in a postscript, that 
 Valerina grew daily more and more beautiful, and so at last made a 
 very good match. That she is the wife of a rich proprietor. That 
 the lovely, fair-haired maid is married. Make it perfectly distinct 
 to him. But neither is this all, dear aunt. How the man can so 
 accurately remember his flaxen-headed beauty, and yet confound 
 her with the daughter of that worthless farmer, with the wild hum-
 
 476 MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 ble-bee of a brunette, whose name was Nacbodina, and wbo went 
 away Heaven knows whitber, tbis, I declare to you, remains entirely 
 incomprebensible, and puzzles me quite excessively. For it seems 
 as if our pretty cousin, wbo prides bimself on bis good memory, 
 could cbange names and persons to a very strange degree. Per- 
 haps be feels tbis obscurely bimself, and Avould have the faded 
 image refreshed by your delineation. Hold him tight, I beg of you ; 
 but try to learn, for our own behoof, how it does stand with these 
 Valerinas and Nachodinas ; and how many more Inas and Trinas have 
 retained their place in his imagination, while the poor Ettas and Ilias 
 have vanished. The messenger ! The cursed messenger I 
 
 THE AUNT TO HER NIECES. 
 
 (Dictated.) 
 
 Why should we dissemble towards those we have to spend our life 
 with ? Lenardo, with all bis peculiarities, deserves confidence. 1 
 send him both your letters : from these be will get a view of you ; 
 and the rest of us, I hope, will ere long unconsciously find occasion 
 to depict ourselves before him likewise. Farewell ! My head is very 
 painful. 
 
 HERSILIA TO HER AUNT. 
 
 Why should we dissemble towards those we have to spend our life 
 with ? Lenardo is a spoiled nephew. It is horrible in you to send 
 him our letters. From these be will get no real view of us ; and I 
 wish with all my heart for oj)portunity to let him view me in soine other 
 light. You give pain to others, while you are in pain yourself, and 
 blind to boot. Quick recovery to your head ! Your heart is irrecov- 
 erable. 
 
 THE AUNT TO HERSILIA. 
 
 Thy last note I should likewise have packed in for Lenardo, had I 
 happened to continue by the purpose, which my irrecoverable heart, 
 my sick bead, and my love of ease, suggested to me. Your letters 
 are not gone. 1 am just parting with the young man, who has been 
 for some time living in our circle, who, by the strangest chance, has 
 come to know us pretty well, and is withal of an intelligent and 
 kindly nature. Him I am dispatching. He undertakes the task with 
 great readiness. He will prepare our nephew, and send or bring him. 
 Thus can j'our aunt recollect herself in the course of a rash enterprise, 
 and bend into another path. Hersilia also will take thought ; and a 
 friendly revocation will not long be wanting from her hand. 
 
 Wilhelm having accurately and circumstantially fulfilled this task, 
 Lenardo answered with a smile : " Much as I am obliged to you for 
 what you tell me, I must still put another question. Did not my 
 aunt, in conclusion, request you also to inform me of another and 
 seemingly an unimportant matter?"
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 477 
 
 Williehu tliouglit a moment. " Yes," said he. then ; " I remember. 
 She mentiom^d a lady, named Valerina. Of her 1 was to tell you 
 that she was happily wedded, and every way well." 
 
 " You roll a stone from my heart," replied Leuardo. " I now 
 gladly return home, since I need not fear that my recollection of this 
 girl can reproach me there." 
 
 " It beseems not me to inquire what relation you have had to her," 
 said Willielm ; ' ' only you may be at ease, if in any way you feel con- 
 cerned for her fortunes." 
 
 "It is the strangest relation in the world," returned Lenardo : 
 "nowise a love matter, as you might perhaps conjecture. I may con- 
 fide in you, and tell it, as indeed there is next to nothing to be told. 
 But what must you think, when I assure you, that this faltering 
 in my return, this fear of revisiting our family, the strange pre- 
 paratives, and inquiries how things looked at home, had no other 
 object but to learn, by the way, how it stood with this young woman. 
 
 " For you will believe," continued he, " I am very well aware that 
 we may leave people whom we know, without finding them, even 
 after a considerable time, much altered ; and so I likeAvise expect very 
 soon to be quite at home with my relatives. This single being only 
 gave me pause : her fortune, I knew, must have changed ; and, thank 
 Heaven, jt has changed for the better." 
 
 " You excite my curiosity," said Wilhelm. " There must be some- 
 thing singular in this." 
 
 " I at least think it so," replied Lenardo, and began his narrative 
 as follows : 
 
 "To accomplish, in my youth, the grand adventure of a tour 
 through cultivated Europe, was a fixed purpose, which I had enter- 
 tained from boyhood, but the execution of which was, as usually 
 happens in these things, from time to time postponed, \yimt was at 
 hand attracted me, retained me ; and the distant lost more and more 
 of its charms, the more I read of it, or heard it talked of. However, 
 at last, incited by my uncle, allured by friends who had gone forth 
 into the world before me, I did form the resolution, and that more 
 rapidly than any one had been expecting. 
 
 " My uncle, who had to afEord the main requisite for my enterprise, 
 directly made this liis chief concern. You know him, and the way 
 he has ; how he still rushes with his whole force on one single object, 
 and everything else in the meanwhile must rest and be silent ; by 
 which means, indeed, he has effected much that seemed to lie beyond 
 the influence of any private man. This journey came upon him, in 
 some degree, unawares ; yet he very soon took his measures. Some 
 buildings, which he has planned, nay, even begun, were abandoned ; 
 and as he never on any account meddles with his accumulated stock, 
 he looked about him, as a prudent financier, for other ways and 
 means. The most obvious plan was to call in out-standing debts, 
 especially remainders of rent : for this also was one of hia habits,
 
 478 MEISTEB'S TRAVELS. 
 
 that he was indulgent to debtors, so long as he himself had, to a cer- 
 tain degree, no need of money. He gave his steward the list, with 
 orders to manage the business. Of individual cases we learned 
 nothing : only I heard transiently, that the farmer of one of our 
 estates, with whom my uncle had long exercised patience, was at last 
 actually to be ejected ; his cautionary pledge, a scanty supplement to 
 the produce of this prosecution, to be retained, and the land to be let 
 to some other person. This man was of a religious turn ; but not, 
 like others of his sect among us, shrewd and active withal ; for his 
 piety and goodness he was loved by his neighbors, but at the same 
 time censured for his weaknes as the master of a house. After the 
 death of his wife, a daughter, whom he usually named the nut-brown 
 maid, though already giving promise of activity and resolution, was 
 still too young for taking a decisive management : in short, the man 
 went back in his affairs, and my uncle's indulgence had not stayed 
 the sinking of his fortune. 
 
 " I had my journey in my head, and could not quarrel with the 
 means for accomplishing it. All was ready : packing and sorting 
 went forward ; every moment was becoming full of business. One 
 evening I was strolling through the park, for the last time, to 
 take leave of my familiar trees and bushes, when all at once Valerina 
 stepped into my way ; for such was the girl's name, the other was but 
 a by-name, occasioned by her brown complexion. She stepped into 
 my way." 
 
 Lenardo paused for a moment, as if considering. " How is this, 
 then? " said he : " Was her name really Yalerina ? Yes, surely," he 
 continued ; " but the by-name was more common. In short, the brown 
 maid came into my path, and pressiugly entreated me to speak a good 
 word for her father, for herself, to my uncle. Knowing how the 
 matter stood, and seeing clearly that it would be difficult, nay, im- 
 possible, to do her any service at this moment, 1 candidly told her so, 
 and set before her the blameworthiness of her father in an unfavor- 
 able light. 
 
 ' ' She answered this with so much clearness, and at the same time 
 with so much filial mitigation and love, that she quite gained me ; 
 and, had it been my own money, I should instantly have made her 
 happy by granting her request. But it was my uncle's income ; 
 these were his arrangements, his orders : with such a temper as his, 
 to attempt altering aught that had been done was hopeless. From 
 of old, I had looked on a promise as in the highest degree sacred. 
 Whoever asked anything of me embarrassed me. I had so accus- 
 tomed myself to refuse, that I did not even promise what I purposed 
 to perform. This habit came in good stead in the present instance. 
 Her arguments turned on individuality and affection, mine on duty 
 and reason ; and I will not deny that at last they seemed too harsh, 
 even to myself. Already we had more than once repeated our topics 
 without convincing one another, when necessity made her more elo
 
 CHAPTER Vin. 479 
 
 quent : the inevitable ruin which she saw before her pressed tears froni 
 her eyes. Her collected manner she entirely lost ; she spoke with 
 vivacity, with emotion ; and as I still kept up a show of coldness and 
 composure, her whole soul turned itself outwards. I wished to end the 
 scene ; but all at once she was lying at my feet, had seized my hand, 
 kissed it, and was looking up to me, so good, so gentle, with such sup- 
 plicating loveliness, that in the haste of the moment I forgot myself. 
 Hurriedly I said, while raising her from her kneeling posture: 'I 
 will do what is possible : compose thyself, my child ! ' and so turned 
 into a side path. ' Do Avhat is impossible ! ' cried she after me. I 
 now knew not what I was saying, hut answered : 'I ^vill,' and hesi- 
 tated. ' Do it ! ' cried she, at once enlivened, and with a heavenly 
 expression of hope. I waved a salutation to her, and hastened away. 
 
 " To my uncle I did not mean to apply directly ; for I knew too 
 well that with him it was vain to speak about the partial, when his 
 purpose was the whole. I inquired for the steward ; he had ridden 
 off to a distance ; visitors came in the evening, friends wishing to take 
 leave of me. They supped and played till far in the night. They 
 continued next day, and their presence effiaced the image of my im- 
 portunate petitioner. The steward returned ; he was busier and more 
 overloaded than ever. All were asking for him : he had no time to 
 hear me. However, I did make an effort to detain him ; but scarcely 
 had I named that pious farmer, when he eagerly repelled the pro- 
 posal. ' For Heaven's sake, not a word of this to your uncle, if you 
 would not have a quarrel with him ! ' The day of my departure was 
 fixed ; I had letters to write, guests to receive, visits in the neighbor- 
 hood to pay. My servants had been hitherto sufficient for my wants, 
 but were nowise adequate to forward the arrangements of a distant 
 journey. All lay on my own hands ; and yet when the steward 
 appointed me an hour in the night before my departure, to settle our 
 money concerns, I neglected not again to solicit him for Valerina's 
 father. 
 
 " ' Dear baron,' said the unstable man, 'how can such a thing ever 
 come into your head? To-day already I have had a hard piece of 
 work with your uncle ; for the sum you need is turning out to be far 
 higher than we reckoned on. This is natural enough, but not the less 
 perplexing. To the old gentleman it is especially unwelcome, when 
 a business seems concluded, and yet many odds and ends are found 
 straggling afterit. This is often the case ; and I and the rest have 
 to take the brunt of it. As to the rigor with which the outstanding 
 debts were to be gathered in, he himself laid down the law to me ; 
 he is at one with liimself on this point, and it would be no easy task 
 to move him to indulgence. Do not try it, I beg of you ! It is quite 
 in vain.' 
 
 " I let him deter me from my attempt, but not entirely. I pressed 
 him, since the execution of the business depended on himself, to act 
 with mildness and mercy. He promised everything, according to tlie
 
 480 MEI8TEB '8 TEA VEL8. 
 
 fasliion of such persons, for the sake of momentary peace. He got 
 quit of me ; the bustle, the hurry of business increased ! I was in 
 my carriage, and had turned my back on all home concerns. 
 
 " A keen impression is like any other wound : we do not feel it in 
 receiving it. Not till afterwards does it begin to smart and gangrene. 
 So was it with me in regard to this occurrence in the park. When- 
 ever I was solitary, whenever I was unemployed, that image of the 
 enti'eating maiden, with the whole accompaniment, with every tree 
 and bush, the place Avhere she knelt, the side path I took to get rid 
 of her, the whole scene rose like a fresh picture before my soul. It 
 was an indestructible impression, which, by other images and inter- 
 ests, might indeed be shaded or overhung, but never obliterated. 
 Still, in every quiet hour, she came before me ; and the longer it 
 lasted, the more painful did I feel the blame which I had incurred 
 against my principles, against my custom, though not expressly, only 
 while hesitating, and for the first time caught in such a perlexity. 
 
 "I failed not in my earliest letters to inquire of our steward how 
 the business had turned. He answered evasively. Then he engaged 
 to explain this point ; then he wrote ambiguously ; at last he became 
 silent altogether. Distance increased ; more objects came between 
 me and my home ; I was called to many new observations, many new 
 sympathies ; the image faded away, the maiden herself, almost to 
 the name. The remembrance of her came more rarely before me ; 
 and, my whim of keeping up my intercourse with home, not by let- 
 ters, but by tokens, tended gradually to make my previous situation, 
 with all its circumstances, nearly vanish from my mind. Now, 
 however, when I am again returning home, when I am purposing to 
 repay my family with interest what I have so long owed it, now at 
 last this strange repentance, strange I myself must call it, falls on 
 me with its whole weight. The form of the maiden brightens up with 
 the forms of my relatives ; and I dread nothing more deeply than to 
 learn that, in the misery into which I drove her, she has sunk to 
 ruin ; for my negligence appears in my own mind an abetting of her 
 destruction, a furtherance of her mournful destiny. A thousand 
 times I have told myself that this feeling was at bottom but a weak- 
 ness ; that my early adoption of the principle, never to promise, had 
 originated in my fear of repentance, not in any noble sentiment. 
 And now it seems as if repentance, which I had Hed from, meant to 
 avenge herself, by seizing this incident, instead of hundreds, to pain 
 me. Yet is the picture, the imagination which torments me, so 
 agreeable withal, so lovely, that I like to linger over it. And when 
 I think of the scene, that kiss which she imprinted on my hand, still 
 seems to burn there." 
 
 Lenardo was silent, andWilhelm answered quickly and gayly : " It 
 appears, then, 1 could have done you no greater service than by that 
 appendix to my narrative ; as we often find in the postscript the 
 most interesting part of the letter. In truth, I know little of
 
 CHAPTER VIII 481 
 
 Va]erina, for I heard of her only in passing ; but, for certain, she is 
 the wife of a prosperous land-owner, and lives happily, as your aunt 
 assured me, on taking leave." 
 
 " liood, and well," said Lenardo : " now there is nothing to detain 
 me. You have given me absolution ; let us now to my friends, who 
 have already waited for me too long." To this Wilhelm answered : 
 " Unhappily I cannot attend you ; for a strange obligation lies on me 
 to continue nowhere longer than three days, and not to revisit any 
 place in less than a year. Pardon me, if I am not at liberty to men- 
 tion the cause of this singularity." 
 
 " I am very sorry," said Lenardo, " that we are to lose you so soon ; 
 that I cannot, in my turn do anything for you. But since you are 
 already in the way of showing me kindness, you might make me 
 very happy if you pleased to visit Valerina ; to inform yourself ac- 
 curately of her situation ; and then to let me have, in writing or in 
 speech (a place of meeting might easily be found), express intelli- 
 gence for my complete composure." 
 
 This proposal was farther discussed ; Yalerina's place of residence 
 had been named to Wilhelm. He engaged to visit her ; a place of 
 meeting was appointed, to which the baron should come, bringing 
 Felix with him, who, in the meanwhile, had remained with the 
 ladies. 
 
 Lenardo and Wilhelm had proceeded on their way for some time, 
 riding together through pleasant fields, with abundance of conversa- 
 tion, when at last they approached the highway, and found the 
 baron's coach in waiting, now ready to revisit with its owner the 
 spot it had left three years before. Here the friends were to part ; 
 and Wilhelm, with a few kindly words, took his leave, again prom- 
 ising the baron speedy news of Valerina. 
 
 "Now when I bethink me," said Lenardo, "that it were but a 
 small circuit if I accompanied you, why should I not visit Valerina 
 myself? Why not witness with my own eyes her happy situation ? 
 You were so friendly as to engage to be my messenger ; why should 
 you not be my companion ? For some companion I must have, some 
 moral counsel, as we take legal counsel to assist us, when we think 
 ourselves inadequate to the perplexities of a process." 
 
 Wilhelm's objections, that the friends at home would be anxiously 
 expecting the long-absent traveler, that it would produce a strange 
 impression if the carriage came alone, and other reasons of the like 
 sort, had no weight with Lenardo ; and Wilhelm was obliged at last to 
 resolve on acting the companion to the baron ; a task on which, con- 
 sidering the consequences that might be apprehended, he entered 
 with no great alacrity. 
 
 Accordingly the servants were instructed what to say oh tbeir arrival ; 
 
 and the two friends now took the road for Yalerina's house. The 
 
 neighborhood appeared rich and fertile, the true seat of agriculture. 
 
 Especially the grounds of Yalerina's husband seemed to be managed 
 
 Meister — 16
 
 482 MEISTEB'S TRAVELS. 
 
 with great skill and care. Willielm had leisure to survey the land- 
 scape accurately, while Lenardo rode in silence beside him. At last 
 the latter said: "Another in my place would perhaps try to meet 
 Valeriua undiscovered ; for it is always a painful feeling to appear 
 before those whom we have injured ; but I had rather front this, and 
 bear the reproach which I have to dread from her first look, than 
 secure myself from it by disguise and untruth. Untruth may bring 
 us into embarrassment quite as well as truth ; and when we reckon 
 up how often the former or the latter profits us, it really seems most 
 prudent, once for all, to devote ourselves to what is true. Let us go 
 forward, therefore, with cheerful minds : I will give my name, and 
 introduce you as my friend and fellow-traveler." 
 
 They had now reached the house, and dismounted in the court. A 
 well-looking man, whom you might have taken for a farmer, came out 
 to them, and announced himself as master of the family. Lenardo 
 named himself, and the landlord seemed highly delighted to see him, 
 and obtain his acquaintance. " What will my wife say," cried he, 
 " when she again meets the nephew of her benefactor ! She never 
 tires of recounting and reckoning up what her father owes your 
 uncle." 
 
 What strange thoughts rushed in rapid disorder through Lenardo's 
 mind ! " Does this man, who looks so honest-minded, hide his bitter- 
 ness under a friendly countenance and smooth words ? Can he give 
 his reproaches so courteous an outside ? For did not my uncle reduce 
 that family to misery ! And can the man be ignorant of this ? Or," 
 so thought he to himself, with quick hope, "has the business not 
 been so bad as thou supposest ? For no decisive intelligence has ever 
 yet reached thee." Such conjectures alternated this way and that, 
 while the landlord was ordering out his carriage to bring home his 
 wife ; who, it appeared, was paying a visit in the neighborhood. 
 
 "If in the meanwhile, till nay wife return," said the latter, "I 
 might entertain you in my own way, and at the same time carry on 
 my duties, say you walk a few steps with me into the fields, and look 
 about you how I manage my husbandry ; for, no doubt, to you, as a 
 great proprietor of land, there is nothing of more near concernment 
 than the noble science, the noble art of agriculture." 
 
 Lenardo made no objection ; Wilhelm liked to gather information. 
 The landlord had his ground, which he possessed and ruled without 
 restriction, under the most perfect treatment ; what he undertook 
 was adapted to his purpose ; what he sowed and planted was always 
 in the right place ; and he could so clearly explain his mode of pro- 
 cedure, and the reasons of it, that every one comprehended him, and 
 thought it possible for himself to do the same ; a mistake one is apt 
 to fall into, on looking at a master, in whose hand all moves as it 
 should do. 
 
 The strangers expressed their satisfaction, and had nothing but 
 praise and approval to pronounce on everything thej saw. He re-
 
 CHAPTER nil 483 
 
 ceived it gratefully and kindly, and at last added : " Now, however, I 
 must show you my weak side, a quality discernible in every one that 
 yields himself exclusively to one pursuit." He led them to his court- 
 yard, showed them his implements, his store of these ; and besides 
 this, a store of all imaginable sorts of farm-gear, with its appurte- 
 nances, kept by way of specimen : " I am often blamed," said he, 
 " for going too far in this matter ; but I cannot quite blame myself. 
 Happy is he to whom his business itself becomes a puppet, who at 
 length can play with it, and amuse himself with what his situation 
 makes his duty." 
 
 The two friends were not behindhand with their questions and 
 examinations. Wilhelm, in particular, delighted in the general 
 observations which this man appeared to have a turn for making ; and 
 failed not to answer them : while the baron, more immersed in his 
 own thoughts, took silent pleasure in the happiness of Valerina, 
 which,, in this situation, he reckoned sure ; yet felt underhand a cer- 
 tain faint shadow of dissatisfaction, of which he could give himself 
 no account. 
 
 The party had returned within doors, when the lady's carriage drove 
 up. They hastened out to meet her ; but what was Lenardo's amaze- 
 ment, his fright, when she stepped forth ? This was not the person ; 
 this was no nut-brown maid, but directly the reverse ; a fair, slim 
 form, in truth ; but light-haired, and possessing all the charms which 
 belong to that complexion. 
 
 This beauty, this grace aifrighted Lenardo. His eyes had sought 
 the brown maiden ; now quite a different figure glanced before them. 
 These features, too, he recollected ; her words, her manner, soon ban- 
 ished all uncertainty : it was the daughter of the lawyer, a man who 
 stood in high favor with the uncle ; for which reason also the dowry 
 had been so handsome, and the new pair so generously dealt with. 
 All this, and mucli more, was gayly recounted by the young wife as 
 an introductory salutation, and with such a joy as the surprise of an 
 unexpected meeting naturally gives rise to. The question, whether 
 they could recognize each other, was mutually put and answered ; 
 the changes in look were talked of, which in persons of that age 
 are found notable enough. Valerina was at all times agreeable ; but 
 lovely in a high degree, when any joyful feeling raised her above 
 her usual level of indifference. The company grew talkative : 
 the conversation became so lively that Lenardo was enabled to com- 
 pose himself and hide his confusion. Wilhelm, to whom he had very 
 soon given a sign of this strange incident, did his best to help him ; 
 and Valerina's little touch of vanity in thinking that the baron, even 
 before visiting his own friends, had remembered her, and come to see 
 her, excluded any shadow of suspicion that another purpose or a mis- 
 conception could be concerned in the affair. 
 
 The party kept together till a late liour, though the two friends 
 ■^vere longing for a confidential dialogue ; which accordingly com-
 
 484 MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 menced, tlie moment tliey were left alone in their allotted cham- 
 bers. 
 
 "It appears," said Lenardo, "I am not to get rid of this secret 
 pain. A luckless confusion of names, 1 now observe, redoubles it. 
 This fair-headed beauty I have often seen playing with the brunette, 
 who could not be called a beauty ; nay, I myself have often run about 
 with them over the fields and gardens, though so much older than 
 they. Neither of them made the slightest impression on riie ; I have 
 but retained the name of the one, and applied it to the other. And 
 now her who does not concern me, I find happy above measure in her 
 own way ; while the other is cast forth, who knows whither, into the 
 wide world." 
 
 Next morning the friends were up almost sooner than their active 
 entertainers. The happiness of seeing her guests had also awakened 
 Valeriua early. She little fancied with what feelings they came to 
 breakfast. Wilhelm, seeing clearly that, without some tidings of 
 the nut-brown maid, Lenardo must continue in a painful state, led 
 the conversation to old times, to playmates, to scenes which he him- 
 self knew, and other such recollections ; so that Valerina soon quite 
 naturally came to speak of the nut-brown maid, and to mention her 
 name. 
 
 No sooner did Lenardo hear the name Nachodina, than he perfectly 
 remembered it ; but with the name, the figure also, of that supplicant 
 returned to him, with such violence, that Valerina's farther narrative 
 became quite agonizing to him, as with warm sympathy she proceeded 
 to describe the distrainment of the pious farmer, his submissive 
 resignation and departure, and how he went away leaning on his 
 daughter, who carried a little bundle in her hand. Lenardo was like 
 to sink under the earth. Unhappily and happily, she went into a 
 certain circumstantiality in her details ; which, while it tortured Le- 
 nardo's heart, enabled him with help of his associate to put on some 
 apjiearance of composure. 
 
 ']'he travelers departed, amid warm sincere invitations on the part 
 of the married pair to return soon, and a faint hollow assent on their 
 own part. And as a person, who stands in any favor with himself, 
 takes everything in a favorable light, so Valerina explained Lenar- 
 do's silence, his visible confusion in taking leave, his hasty departure, 
 entirely to her own advantage ; and could not, although the faithful 
 and loving wife of a worthy gentleman, help feeling some small sat- 
 isfaction at this re-awakening or incipient inclination, as she reckoned 
 it, of her former landlord. 
 
 After this strange incident, while the friends were proceeding ot\ 
 their way, Lenardo thus addressed Wilhelm: "For our shipwreck 
 with such fair hopes at the very entrance of the haven, I can still con- 
 sole myself in some degree for the moment, and go calmly to meet 
 my people, when I think that Heaven has brought me you, — you tQ 
 whom, under your peculiar mission, it is indifferent whither or how
 
 CHAPTER nil. 485 
 
 you direct your path. Engage to fiud out Nacliodina, and to give rae 
 tidings of her. If she be happy, then am I content ; if unhappy, 
 then lielp her at my charges. Act without reserve ; spare, calculate 
 nothing ! I shall return home, shall endeavor to get intelligence, 
 and send your Felix to you by some trusty person. Place the boy, as 
 your intention was, where many of his equals are placed : it is almost 
 indifferent under what superintendence ; but I am much mistaken, 
 if, iu the'neighborhood, in the place where I wish you to wait for 
 your son and his attendant, you do not find a man that can give you 
 the best counsel on this point. It is he to whom I owe the training of 
 my youth, whom I should have liked so much to take along with me 
 in my travels, whom at least I should many a time have wished to 
 meet in the course of them, had he not already devoted himself to a 
 quiet domestic life." 
 
 The friends had now reached the spot where they were actually to 
 part. While the hoj'ses were feeding, the baron wrote a letter, which 
 Wilhelm took charge of ; yet, for the rest, could not help communi- 
 cating his scruples to Lenardo. 
 
 " In my present situation," said he, " I reckon it a desirable com- 
 mission to deliver a generous man from distress of mind, and, at the 
 same time to free a human creature from misery, if she happen to bo 
 miserable. Such an object one may look upon as a star, towards 
 which one sails, not knowing what awaits him, what he is to meet by 
 the way. Yet, with all this, I must not be blind to the danger which, 
 in every case, still hovers over you. Were you not a man who regu- 
 larly avoid engagements, I should require a promise from you not 
 again to see this female, who has come to be so precious in your eyes ; 
 but to content yourself, when I announce to you that all is well with 
 her ; be it that I actually find her happy, or am enabled to make her so. 
 But having neither power nor wish to extort a promise from you, I 
 conjure you by all you reckon dear and sacred, for your own sake, 
 for that of your kindred, and of me your new-acquired friend, to 
 allow yourself no approximation to that lost maiden, under what pre- 
 text soever ; not to require of me that I mention or describe the place 
 where I find her, or the neighborhood where I leave her ; but to 
 believe my word that she is well, and be enfranchised and at peace." 
 
 Lenardo gave a smile, and answered : ' ' Perform this service for 
 me, and I shall be grateful. What you are willing and able to do I 
 commit to your own hands ; and for myself, leave me to time, to com- 
 mon sense, and, if possible, to reason." 
 
 "Pardon me," answered Wilhelm: "but whoever knows under 
 what strange forms love glides into our hearts, cannot but be appre- 
 hensive, on foreseeing that a friend may come to entertain wishes, 
 which, in his circumstances, his station, would of necessity produce 
 unhappiness and perplexity." 
 
 " I hope," said Lenardo, " when I know the maiden happy, I have 
 done with her." 
 
 The friends parted, each in his own direction.
 
 486 MEISTEB'8 THAVELS, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 By a short and pleasant road Willielm had reached the town to 
 which his letter was directed. He found it gay and well built ; but 
 its new aspect showed too clearly that, not long before, it must have 
 suffered by a conflagration. The address of his letter led him into 
 the last small uninjured portion of the place, to a house of ancient, 
 earnest architecture, yet well kept, and of a tidy look. Dim win- 
 dows, strangely fashioned, indicated an exhilarating pomp of colors 
 from within. Nor, in fact, did the interior fail to correspond with the 
 exterior. In clean apartments, everywhere stood furniture which 
 must have served several generations, intermixed with very little that 
 was new. The master of the house received our traveler kindly, in a 
 little chamber similarly fitted up. These clocks had already struck 
 the hour of many a birth and many a death ; everything which met 
 the eye reminded one that the past might, as it were, be protracted 
 into the present. 
 
 The stranger delivered his letter ; but the landlord, without open- 
 ing it, laid it aside, and endeavored, in a cheerful conversation, im- 
 mediately to get acquainted with his guest. They soon grew confi- 
 dential ; and as Wilhelm, contrary to his usual habit, let his eye 
 wander inquisitively over the room, the good old man said to him : 
 " My domestic equipment excites your attention. You here see how 
 long a thing may last ; and one should make such observations now 
 and then, by way of counterbalance to so much in the world that 
 rapidly changes and passes away. This same tea-kettle served my 
 parents, and was a witness of our evening family assemblages ; this 
 copper fire-screen still guards me from the fire, which these stout old 
 tongs still help me to mend ; and so it is with all throughout. I had 
 it in my power to bestow my care and industry on many other things, 
 as I did not occupy myself with changing these external necessaries, 
 a task which consumes so many people's time and resources. An 
 affectionate attention to what we possess makes rich, for thereby we 
 accumulate a treasure of remembrances connected with indifferent 
 things. I knew a young man who got a common pin from his love, 
 while taking leave of her ; daily fastened his breast-frill with it, and 
 ' brought back this guarded and not unemployed treasure from a long 
 journeying of several years. In us little men, such little things are 
 to be reckoned virtue." 
 
 " Many a one too," answered Wilhelm, "brings back, from such 
 long and far travelings, a sharp pricker in his heart, which he would 
 fain be quit of." 
 
 The old man seemed to know nothing of Lenardo's situation though 
 in the meanwhile he had opened the letter and read it ; for he re- 
 turned to his former topics.
 
 CHAPTER. IX. 487 
 
 " Tenacity of our possessions," continued he, " in many cases gives 
 us the greatest energy. To this obstinacy in myself I owe the saving 
 of my house. When the town was on fire, some people wished me to 
 begin snatching and saving here too. I forbade this ; bolted my doors 
 and windows ; and turned out, with several neighbors, to oppose the 
 flames. Our eiforts succeeded in preserving this summit of the town. 
 Next morning all was standing here as you now see it, and as it has 
 stood for almost a hundred years." 
 
 " Yet you will confess," said Wilhelm, "that no man withstands 
 the change which time produces." ^ 
 
 " That, in truth !" said the other ; " but he who holds out longest 
 has still done something. 
 
 " Yes ! even beyond the limits of our being we are able to main- 
 tain and secure : we transmit discoveries, we hand down sentiments, 
 as well as property ; and as the latter was my chief province, I have 
 for a long time exercised the strictest foresight, invented the most 
 peculiar precautions ; yet not till lately have I succeeded in seeing my 
 wish fulfilled. 
 
 " Commonly the son disperses what the father has collected, col- 
 lects something different, or in a different way. Yet if we can wait 
 for the grandson, for the new generation, we find the same tenden- 
 cies, the same tastes, again making their appearance. And so at last, 
 by the care of our pedagogic friends, I have found an active youth, 
 who, if possible, pays more regard to old posses.siou than even I, and 
 has withal a vehement attachment to every sort of curiosities. My 
 decided confidence he gained by the violent exertions, with which he 
 struggled to keep off the fire from our dwelling. Doubly and trebly 
 has he merited the treasure which I mean to leave him : nay, it is 
 already given into his hands ; and ever since that time, our store 
 is increasing in a wonderful way. 
 
 " Not all, however, that you see here is ours. On the contrary, as 
 in the hands of pawnbrokers you find many a foreign jewel, so with 
 us I can show you precious articles, which people, under the most 
 various circumstances, have deposited with us for the sake of better 
 keeping." 
 
 Wilhelm recollected the beautiful box, which, at any rate, he did not 
 like to carry with him in his wanderings ; and showed it to his land- 
 lord. The old man viewed it with attention ; gaVe the date when it 
 was probably made ; and showed some similar things. Wilhehn 
 asked him if he thought it should be opened. The old man thought 
 not. " I believe, indeed," said he, " it could be done, without special 
 harm to the casket ; but as you found it in .so singular a way, you 
 must try your luck on it. For if you are born lucky, and this little 
 box is of any consequence, the key will doubtless by and by be found, 
 and in the very place where you are least expecting it." 
 
 " There have been such occurrences," said Wilhelm. 
 
 "I have myself experienced such," replied the old man; "and
 
 488 MEISTEB'S TRAVELS. 
 
 here you beliold tlie strangest of them. Of this ivory crucifix I have 
 liad, for thirty years, the body with the head and feet, in one place. 
 For its own nature, as well as for the glorious art displayed in it, I 
 kept the figure laid up in my most private drawer ; nearly ten years 
 ago I got the cross belonging to it, with the inscription, and was then 
 induced to have the arms supplied by the best carver of our day. 
 Far, indeed, was this expert artist from equaling his predecessor ; 
 yet I let his work pass, more for devout purposes, than for any 
 admiration of its excellence. 
 
 " Now conceive my delight ! A little while ago the original genuine 
 arms were sent me, as you see them here united in the loveliest har- 
 mony ; and I, charmed at so happy a coincidence, cannot help recog- 
 nizing in this crucifix the fortunes of the Christian religion, which, 
 often enough dismembered and scattered abroad, will ever in the end 
 again gather itself together at the foot of the cross." 
 
 Wilhelm admired the figure, and its strange combination. "I will 
 follow your counsel," added he ; "let the casket continue locked till 
 the key of it be found, though it should lie till the end of my life. " 
 
 " One who lives long," said the old man, " sees much collected and 
 much cast assunder." 
 
 The young partner in the house now chanced to enter, and Wilhelm 
 signified his purpose of intrusting the box to their keeping. A large 
 book was thereupon produced, the deposit inscribed in it, with many 
 ceremonies and stipulations ; a receipt granted, which applied in 
 words to any bearer, but was only to be honored on the giving of a 
 certain token agreed upon with the owner. 
 
 So passed their hours in instructive and entertaining conversation, 
 till at last Felix, mounted on a gay pony, arrived in safety. A groom 
 had accompanied him, and was now for some time to attend and serve 
 Wilhelm. A letter from Lenardo, delivered at the same time, com- 
 plained that he could find no vestige of the nut-brown maid ; and 
 Wilhelm was anew conjured to do his utmost in searching her out. 
 Wilhelm imparted the matter to his landlord. The latter smiled, 
 and said : " We must certainly make every exertion, for our friend's 
 sake ; perhaps I may succeed in learning something of her. As I 
 keep these old primitive household goods, so likewise have I kept 
 some old primitive friends. You tell me that this maiden's father 
 was distinguished by his piety. The pious have a more intimate 
 connection with each other than the wicked ; though externally it 
 may not always prosper so well. By this means I hope to obtain 
 some traces of what you are sent to seek. But, as a preparative, do 
 you now pursue the resolution of placing your Felix among his 
 equals and turning him to some fixed department of activity. Has- 
 ten with him to the great institution. I will point out the way you 
 must follow in order to find the chief, who resides now in one, now 
 in another division of his province. You shall have a letter, with 
 my best advice and direction."
 
 CHAPTER X. 489 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The pilgrims, pursuing the way pointed out to tliem, had, without 
 diflBculty, reached the limits of the province, where they were to see 
 so many singularities. At the very entrance, they found themselves 
 in a district of extreme fertility ; in its soft knolls, favorable to crops ; 
 in its higher hills, to sheep husbandry ; in its wide bottoms, to graz- 
 ing. Harvest was near at hand, and all was in the richest luxuriance ; 
 yet what most surprised our travelers was, that they observed neither 
 men nor women ; but in all quarters boys and youths, engaged in 
 preparing for a happy harvest, nay, already making arrangements for 
 a merry harvest-home. Our travelers saluted several of them, and 
 inquired for the chief, of whose abode, however, they could gain no 
 intelligence. The address of their letter was : To the Chief, or the 
 Three. Of this also the boys could make nothing ; however, they 
 referred the strangers to an overseer, who was just about mounting 
 his horse to ride off. Our friends disclosed their object to this man : 
 the frank liveliness of Felix seemed to please him, and so they all 
 rode along together. 
 
 Wilhelni had already noticed, that in the cut and color of the 
 young people's clothes a variety prevailed, which gave the whole 
 tiny population a peculiar aspect ; he was just about to question his 
 attendant on this point, when a still stranger observation forced itself 
 upon him ; all the children, how employed soever, laid down their 
 work, and turned with singular, yet diverse gestures, towards the 
 party riding past them ; or rather, as it was easy to infer, towards 
 the overseer, who was in it. The youngest laid their arms crosswise 
 over their breasts, and looked cheerfully up to the sky ; those of 
 middle size held their hands on their backs, and looked smiling on 
 the ground ; the eldest stood with a frank and spirited air ; their 
 arms stretched down, they turned their heads to the right, and 
 formed themselves into a line ; whereas the others kept separate, 
 each where he chanced to be. 
 
 The riders having stopped and dismounted here, as several chil- 
 dren, in their various modes, were standing forth to be inspected by 
 the overseer, Wilhelm asked the meaning of these gestures ; but 
 Felix struck in, and cried gayly : " What posture am 1 to take, 
 then ? •' 
 
 "Without doubt," said the overseer, "as the first posture: the 
 arms over the breast, the face earnest and cheerful towards the sky.'* 
 
 Felix obeyed, but soon cried : " This is not much to my taste ; I 
 see nothing up there : does it last long ? But yes ! " exclaimed he 
 joy full)', "yonder are a pair of falcons flying from the west to the 
 east ; that is a good sign too ! "
 
 490 MEISTEB'8 TRAVELS. 
 
 " As thou takest it, as thou beliavest," said the other ; " now min- 
 gle among them, as they mingle." He gave a signal, and the chil- 
 dren left their postures, and again betook them to work, or sport, as 
 before. 
 
 " Are you at liberty," said Wilhelm then, "to explain this sight 
 which surprises me ? I easily perceive that these positions, these 
 gestures, are salutions directed to you." 
 
 " Just so," replied the overseer ; " salutations which at once indi- 
 cate in what degree of culture each of these boys is standing." 
 
 "But can you explain to me the meaning of this gradation?" 
 inquired Wilhelm ; " for that there is one is clear enough." 
 
 " This belongs to a higher quarter," said the other : " so much, 
 however, I may tell you, that these ceremonies are not mere grim- 
 aces ; that, on the contrary, the import of tliem, not the highest, but 
 still a directing, intelligible import, is communicated to the children ; 
 while, at the same time, each is enjoined to retain and consider for 
 himself whatever explanation it has been thought meet to give him ; 
 they are not allowed to talk of these things, either to strangers or 
 among themselves ; and thus their instruction is modified in many 
 ways. Besides, secrecy itself has many advantages ; for when you 
 tell a man at once and straightforward the purpose of any object, he 
 fancies there is nothing in it. Certain secrets, even if known to 
 every one, men find that they must still reverence by concealment 
 and silence, for this works on modesty and good morals." 
 
 "I understand you," answered Wilhelm ; " why should not the 
 principle which is so necessary in material things, be applied to 
 spiritual also ? But perhaps, in another point, you can satisfy my 
 curiosity. The great variety of shape and color in these children's 
 clothes attracts my notice ; and yet I do not see all sorts of colors, 
 but a few in all their shades, from the lightest to the deepest. At 
 the same time, I observe that by this no designation of degrees in 
 age or merit can be intended ; for the oldest and youngest boys may 
 be alike in both in cut and color, while those of similar gestures 
 are not similar in dress." 
 
 "On this matter also," said the other, "silence is prescribed to 
 me ; but I am much mistaken, or you will not leave us without re- 
 ceiving all the information you desire." 
 
 Our party continued following the trace of the chief, which they 
 believed themselves to be upon. But now the strangers could not 
 fail to notice, with new surprise, that the farther they advanced into 
 the district, a vocal melody more and more frequently sounded to- 
 wards them from the fields. Whatever the boys might be engaged 
 with, whatever labor they were carrying on, they accompanied it 
 with singing ; and it seemed as if the songs were specially adapted 
 to their various sorts of occupation, and in similar cases everywhere 
 the same. If there chanced to be several children in company, they 
 sang together in alternating parts. Towards evening, appeared
 
 CHAPTER X. 491 
 
 dancers likewise, whose steps were enlivened and directed by cho- 
 ruses. Felix struck in with them, not altogether unsuccessfully, 
 from horseback, as he passed ; and Wilhelni felt gratified in this 
 amusement, which gave new life to the scene. 
 
 " Apparently," he said to his companion, "you devote considerable 
 care to this branch of instruction ; the accomplishment, otherwise, 
 could not be so widely diffused, aiid so completely practiced." 
 
 " We do," replied the other. V'On our plan, song is the first step 
 in education ; all the rest are connected with it, and attained by means 
 of it. The simplest enjoyment, as well as the simplest instruction, 
 we enliven and impress by song ; nay, even what religious and moral 
 principles we lay before our children, are communicated in the way 
 of song. Other advantages for the excitement of activity spontane- 
 ously arise from this practice ; for, in accustoming the children to 
 write the tones they are to utter, in musical characters, and as occa- 
 sion serves, again to seek these characters in the utterance of their own 
 voice ; and besides this, to subjoin the text below the notes, they are 
 forced to practice hand, ear and eye at once, whereby they acquire the 
 art of penmanship sooner than you would expect ; and as all this, in 
 the long run, is to be effected by copying precise measurements and 
 accurately settled numbers, they come to conceive the high value of 
 mensuration and arithmetic much sooner than in any other way. 
 Among all imaginable things, accordingly, we have selected music as 
 the element. of our teaching; for level roads run out from music 
 towards every side." 
 
 Wilhelm endeavored to obtain still farther information, and ex- 
 pressed his surprise at hearing no instrumental music. " This is by 
 no means neglected here," said the other ; " but practiced in a pecu- 
 liar district, one of the most pleasant valleys among the mountains ; 
 and there again we have arranged it so that the different instruments 
 shall be taught in separate places. The discords of beginners, in par- 
 ticular, are banished into certain solitudes, where they can drive no 
 one to despair ; for you will confess that in well-regulated civil 
 .society there is scarcely a more melancholy suffering to be undergone 
 than what is forced on us by the neighborhood of an incipient player 
 on the flute or violin. 
 
 " Our learners, out of a laudable desire to be troublesome to no one, 
 go forth of their own accord, for a longer or a shorter time, into the 
 wastes, and strive in their seclusion to attain the merit which shall 
 again admit them into the inhabited world. Each of them, from time 
 to time, is allowed to venture an attempt for admission, and the trial 
 seldom fails of success ; for bashfulness and modesty, in this, as in 
 all other parts of our system, we strongly endeavor to maintain and 
 cherish. That your son has a good voice, I am glad to observe ; all 
 the rest is managed with so much the greater ease." 
 
 They had now reached a place where Felix was to stop, and make 
 trial of its arrangements, till a formal reception should be granted
 
 493 MEISTSB'S TRAVELS. 
 
 hini. From a distance they liad been saluted by a jocund sound of 
 music ; it was a game in wliicli the boys were, for the present, amus- 
 ing themselves in their hour of play. A general chorus mounted up ; 
 each individual of a wide circle striking in at his time, with a joyful, 
 clear, firm tone, as the sign was given him by the overseer. The lat- 
 ter more than once took the singers by surprise, when at a signal he 
 suspended the choral song, and called on any single boy, touching 
 him with his rod, to catch by himself the expiring tone, and adapt to 
 it a suitable song, fitted also to the spirit of what had preceded. Most 
 part showed great dexterity ; a few, who failed in this feat, willingly 
 gave in their pledges, without altogether being laughed at for their 
 ill-success. Felix was child enough to mix among them instantly ; 
 and in his new task he acquitted himself tolerably well. The first 
 salutation was then enjoined on him : he directly laid his hands on 
 his breast, looked upwards, and truly with so roguish a countenance, 
 that it was easy to observe no secret meaning had yet in his mind 
 attached itself to this posture. 
 
 The delightful spot, his kind reception, the merry playmates, all 
 pleased the boy so well, that he felt no very deep sorrow as his father 
 moved away ; the departure of the ])ony was perhaps a heavier mat- 
 ter ; but he yielded here also, on learning that in this circle it could 
 not possibly be kept ; and the overseer promised him, in compensa- 
 tion, that he should find another horse, as smart and well-broken, at 
 a time when he was not expecting it. 
 
 As the chief, it appeared, was not to be come at, the overseer 
 turned to Willhem and said : " I must now leave you, to pursue my 
 occupations ; but first I will bring you to the Three, who preside over 
 our sacred things. Your letter is addressed to them likewise, and 
 they together represent the chief." Wilhelm could have wished to 
 gain some previous knowledge of these sacred things, but his com- 
 panion answered : " The Three will doubtless, in return for the con- 
 fidence you show in leaving us your son, disclose to you in their 
 wisdom and fairness what is most needful for you to learn. The visi- 
 ble objects of reverence, which I named sacred things, are collected in 
 this separate circle ; are mixed with nothing, interfered with by noth- 
 ing : at certain seasons of the year only are our pupils admitted here, 
 to be taught in their various degrees of culture, by historical and 
 sensible means ; and in these short intervals they carry off a deep 
 enough impression to suffice them for a time, during the performance 
 of their other duties." 
 
 Wilhelm had now reached the gate of a wooded vale, surrounded 
 with high walls : on a certain sign the little door opened, and a man 
 of earnest and imposing look received our traveler. The latter found 
 himself in a large beautifully umbrageous space, decked with the 
 richest foliage, shaded with trees and bushes of all sorts ; while 
 stately walls and magnificent buildings were discerned only in 
 glimpses through this thick natural boscage. A friendly reception
 
 CHAPTER X. m 
 
 from tiie Three, who by and by appeared, at last turned into a general 
 conversation, the substance of which we now present in an abbrevi- 
 ated shape. 
 
 " Since you intrust your son to us," said they, "it is fair that we 
 admit you to a closer view of our procedure. Of what is external 
 you have seen much that does not bear its meaning on its front.- 
 What part of this do you chiefly wish to have explained ? " 
 
 "Dignified, yet singular gestures of salutation I have noticed, the 
 import of which I would gladly learn : with you, doubtless, the exte- 
 rior has a reference to the interior, and inversely ; let me know what 
 this reference is." 
 
 " Well-formed, healthy children," replied the Three, " bring much 
 into the world along with them. Nature has given to each whatever 
 he requires for time and duration ; to unfold this is our duty : often 
 it unfolds itself better of its own accord. One thing there is, how- 
 ever, which no child brings into the world with him ; and yet it is on 
 this one thing that all depends for making man in every point a man. 
 If you can discover it yourself, speak it out." Wilhelm thought a 
 little while, then shook his head. 
 
 The Three, after a suitable pause, exclaimed : Reverence ! Wil- 
 helm seemed to hesitate. " Reverence I " cried they a second time. 
 " All want it, perhaps you yourself. 
 
 " Three kinds of gestures you have seen ; and we inculcate a three- 
 fold reverence, which, when commingled and formed into one whole 
 attains its highest force and effect. The first is reverence for what is 
 above us. That posture, the arms crossed over the breast, the looli 
 turned joyfully towards heaven : that is what we have enjoined on 
 young children ; requiring from them thereby a testimony that there is 
 a God above, who images and reveals himself in parents, teachers 
 superiors. Then comes the second : reverence for what is under us. 
 Those hands folded over the back, and, as it were, tied together, that 
 down-turned smiling look, announce that we are to regard the earth 
 with attention and cheerfulness : from the bounty of the earth we 
 are nourished : the earth affords unutterable joys ; but dispropor- 
 tionate sorrows she also brings us. Should one of our children do 
 himself external hurt, blamably or blamelessly ; should others hurt 
 him accidentally or purposely ; should dead involuntary matter do 
 him hurt ; then let him well consider it ; for such dangers will 
 attend him all his days. But from this posture we delay not to free 
 our pupil, the instant we become convinced that the instruction con- 
 nected with it has produced sufficient influence on him. Then, on 
 the contrary, we bid him gather courage, and turning to his comrades, 
 range himself along with them. Now, at last, he stands forth, frank 
 and bold ; not selfishly isolated ; only in combination with his equals 
 does -he front the world. Farther we have nothing to add." 
 
 "I see a glimpse of it !" said Wilhelm. "Are not the mass of 
 men so marred and stinted, because they take pleasure only in the
 
 494 MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 element of evil-wisliing and evil-speaking? Whoever gives himself 
 to this, soon comes to be indifferent towards God, contemptuous to- 
 wards the world, spiteful towards his equals ; and the true, genuine, 
 indispensable sentiment of self-estimation corrupts into self-conceit 
 and presumption. Allow me, however," continued he, " to state one 
 difficulty. You say that reverence is not natural to man ; now,. has 
 not the feverence or fear of rude people for violent convulsions of 
 nature, or other inexplicable mysteriously-foreboding occurrences, 
 been heretofore regarded as the germ out of which a higher feeling, 
 a purer sentiment, was by degrees to be developed ? " 
 
 " Nature is indeed adequate to fear," replied they ; " but to rever- 
 ence not adequate. Men fear a known or unknown powerful being ; 
 the strong seeks to conquer it, the weak to avoid it ; both endeavor 
 to get quit of it, and feel themselves happy when for a short season 
 they have put it aside, and their nature has in some degree restored 
 itself to freedom and independence. The natural man repeats this 
 operation millions of times in the course of his life ; from fear he 
 struggles to freedom ; from freedom he is driven back to fear, and so 
 makes no advancement. To fear is easy, but grievous ; to reverence 
 is difficult, but satisfactory. Man does not willingly submit himself 
 to reverence ; or rather he never so submits himself ; it is a higher 
 sense, which must be communicated to his nature ; which only in some, 
 peculiarly favored individuals unfolds itself spontaneously, who on 
 this account too have of old been loolied upon as saints and gods. 
 Here lies the worth, here lies the business of all true religions ; 
 whereof there are likewise only three, according to the objects towards 
 which they direct our devotion." 
 
 The men paused ; Wilhelm reflected for a time in silence ; but 
 feeling in himself no pretension to unfold the meaning of these 
 strange words, he requested the sages to proceed with their exposi- 
 tion. They immediately complied. "No religion that grounds itself 
 on fear," said they, " is regarded among us. With the reverence, to 
 which a man should give dominion in his mind, he can, in paying 
 honor, keep his ovjin honor ; he is not disunited with himself, as in 
 the former case. T The religion which depends on reverence for what 
 is above us, we denominate the Ethnic ; it is the religion of the na- 
 tions, and the first happy deliverance from a degrading fear; all 
 heathen religions, as we call them, are of this sort, whatsoever names 
 they may bear. The second religion, which founds itself on rever- 
 ence for what is around us, we denominate the Philosophical ; for the 
 philosopher stations himself in tlie middle, and must draw down to 
 him all that is higher, and up to him all that is lower, and only in 
 this medium condition does he merit the title of wise. Here, as he 
 surveys with clear sight his relation to his equals, and therefore to 
 the whole human race ; his relation likewise to all other earthly cir- 
 cumstances and arrangements necessary or accidental, he alone, in a 
 cosmic sense, lives iu truth. But now we have to speak of the third
 
 CHAPTER X. 496 
 
 religion, grounded on reverence for what is beneath us ; this we 
 name the Christian, as in the Christian religion such a temper is with 
 most distinctness manifested ; it is a last step to which mankind 
 were fitted and destined to attain. But what a task was it, not only 
 to be patient with the earth, and let it lie Ijeneath us, we appealing 
 to a higher birthplace ; but also to recognize humility and poverty, 
 mockery and despite, disgrace and wretcliedness, suffering and death, 
 to recognize these things as divine ; nay, even on sin ami crime to 
 look not as hindrances, ))ut to honor and love them as furtherances, 
 of what is holy. Of this, indeed, we find some traces in all ages ; but 
 the trace is not the goal ; and this being now attained, the human 
 species cannot retrograde ; and we may say, that the Christian religion 
 having once appeared, cannot again vanish ; having once assumed its 
 divine shape, can be subject to no dissolution." J 
 
 "To which of these religions do you specTsny adhere?" inquired 
 Wilhelm. 
 
 " To all the three," replied they ; " for in their union they produce 
 what may properly be called the true religion. Out of those three 
 reverences springs the highest reverence, reverence for one's self, 
 and those again unfold themselves from this ; so that man attains 
 the highest elevation of which he is capable, that of being justified 
 in reckoning himself the best that God and Nature have produced ; 
 nay, of being able to continue on this lofty eminence, without being 
 again by self-conceit and presumption drawn down from it into the 
 vulgar level." 
 
 " Such a confefjsion of faith, developed in this manner, does not re- 
 pulse me," answered Wilhelm ; "it agrees with much that one hears 
 ■ now and then in the course of life ; only, you unite what others sep- 
 arate." 
 
 To this they replied : " Our confession has already been adopted, 
 though unconsciously, by a great part of the world." 
 
 •'How then, and where?" said Wilhelm. 
 
 " In the creed !" exclaimed they : " for the first article is ethnic, 
 and belongs to all nations ; the second Christian, for those struggling 
 with aflliction and glorified in aflliction ; the third, in fine, teaches an 
 inspired communion of saints, that is, of men in the highest degree 
 good and wise. And should not therefore the three divine persons, 
 under the similitudes and names of which these threefold doctrines 
 and commands are promulgated, justly be considered as in the highest 
 sense one?" 
 
 "I thank you," said Wilhelm, " for having pleased to lay all this 
 before me in such clearness and combination, as before a grown-up 
 person, to whom your three modes of feeling are not altogether for- 
 eign. And now, when I reflect that you communicate this high 
 doctrine to your children, in the first place as a sensible sign, then 
 with some symbolical accompaniment attached to it, and at last un- 
 fold to them its deepest meaning, I cannot but warmly approve of 
 your method,"
 
 496 MEISTEB'8 TRAVELS. 
 
 " Riglit," answered they ; " but now we must slioAv you more, and 
 so convince you tlie better that your son is in no bad hands. This, 
 liowever, may remain for the morrow ; rest and refresh yourself, that 
 you may attend us in the morning, as a man satisfied and unimpeded, 
 into the interior of our sanctuary," 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 At the hand of the eldest, our friend now proceeded through a state- 
 ly portal, into a round, or rather octagonal hall, so richly decked with 
 pictures, that it struck him with astonishment as he entered. All 
 this, he easily conceived, must have a significant import, though at 
 the moment he saw not so clearly what it was. While about to ques- 
 tion his guide on this subject, the latter invited him to step forward 
 into a gallery, open on the one side, and stretching round a spacious 
 gay flowery garden. The wall, however, not the flowers attracted the 
 eyes of the stranger ; it was covered with paintings, and Wilhelm 
 could not walk far without observing that the sacred books of the 
 Israelites had furnished the materials for these figures. 
 
 " It is here," said the eldest, " that we teach our first religion, the 
 religion which, for the sake of brevity, I named the Ethnic. The 
 spirit of it is to be sought for in the history of the world ■. its outward 
 form, in the events of that history. Only in the return of similar des- 
 tinies on whole nations, can it properly be apprehended." 
 
 "I observe," said Wilhelm, "you have done the Israelites the 
 honor to select their history as the groundwork of this delineation, or 
 rather, you have made it the leading object there." 
 
 " As you see," replied the eldest ; " for you will remark, that on 
 the socles and friezes we have introduced another series of trans- 
 actions and occurrences, not so much of a synchronistic as of a sym- 
 phronistic kind ; since, among all nations, we discover records of a 
 similar import, and grounded on the same facts. Thus you perceive 
 here, while in the main field of the picture, Abraham receives a visit 
 from his gods in the form of fair youths, Apollo, among the herds- 
 men of Admetus, is painted above on the frieze. From which we 
 may learn, that the gods, when they appear to men, are commonly 
 unrecognized of them." 
 
 The friends walked on. Wilhelm, for the most part, met with 
 well-known objects, but they were here exhibited in a livelier and 
 more expressive manner than he had been used to see them. On some 
 few matters he requested explanation, and at last could not help 
 returning to his former question : Why the Israelitish history had 
 been chosen in preference to all others ? 
 
 The eldest answered ; " Among all heathen religions, for such also
 
 CHAPTER XL 497 
 
 is the Israelitish, tliis lias the most distinguished advantages ; of 
 which I sliall mention only a few. At the Eclinic judgment-seat, at 
 the judgment-seat of tlie God of nations, it is not aslied wlietlier tliis 
 is the best, the most excellent nation, but whether it lasts, whether it 
 has continued. PTlie Israelitish people never was good for much, as 
 its own leaders, judges, rulers, prophets have a thousand times re- 
 proachfully declared ; it possesses few virtues, and most of the faults 
 of other nations ; but in cohesion, steadfastness, valor, and when all 
 this would not serve, in obstinate toughness, it has no match. It is 
 the most perse verant nation in the world : it is, it was and will be ; 
 to glorify the name of Jehovah, through all ages. We have set it up, 
 therefore, as the pattern figure ; as the main figure, to which the 
 others only serve as a frame." , 
 
 " It becomes not me to dfspute with you," said Wilhelm, "since 
 ycu have instruction to imixxrt. Open to me, therefore, the other 
 advantages of this people, or rather of its history, of its religion." 
 
 " One chief advantage," said the other, " is its excellent collection 
 of sacred books. [These stand 'so happily combined together, that 
 even out of the most diverse elements, the feeling of a whole still 
 rises before us. They are complete enough to satisfy ; fragmentary 
 enough to excite ; barbarous enough to rouse ; tender enough to 
 appease ; and for how many other contradicting ^ merits might not 
 these books, might not this one book, be praised ! " 
 
 The series of main figures, as well as their relalTons to the smaller 
 which above and below accompanied them, gave the guest so much to 
 think of, that he scarcely heard the pertinent remarks of his guide ; 
 who, by what he said, seemed desirous rather to divert our friend's 
 attention, than to fix it on the paintings. Once, however, the old man 
 said, on some occasion : "Another advantage of the Israelitish re- 
 ligion, I must here mention ; it has not embodied its God in any 
 form ; and so has left us at liberty to represent him in a worthy 
 human shape, and likewise, by way of contrast, to designate idolatry 
 by forms of beasts and monsters." 
 
 Our friend had now, in his short wandering through this hall, again 
 brought the spirit of universal history before his mind ; in regard to 
 the events, he had not failed to meet with something new. So like- 
 wise, by the simultaneous presentment of the pictures, by the rellec- 
 tions of his guide, many new views had risen on him ; and he could 
 not but rejoice in thinking that his Felix was, by so dignified a 
 visible representation, to seize and appropriate for his whole life those 
 great, significant and exemplary events, as if they had actually been 
 present, and transacted beside him. He came at length to regard the 
 exhibition altogether with the eyes of t^ie child, and in this point of 
 view it perfectly contented liim. Thus wandering on, they had now 
 reached the gloomy and perplexed periods of the history, the destruc- 
 tion of the city and the temple, the murder, exile, slavery of whole 
 masses of this stifE-necked people. Its subsequent fortunes were de-
 
 498 MEISTEB' 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 lineated in a cunning allegorical way ; a real historical delineation of 
 them would have lain without the limits of true art. 
 
 At this point, the gallery abruptly terminated in a closed door, and 
 Wilhelm was surprised to see himself already at the end. " In your 
 historical series," said he, " I find a chasm. You have destroyed the 
 temple of Jerusalem, and dispersed the people ; yet you have not in- 
 troduced the divine Man who taught there shortly before ; to whom, 
 shortly before, they would give no ear." 
 
 " To have done this, as you require it, would have been an error. 
 The life of that divine Man, whom you allude to, stands in no connec- 
 tion with the general history of the world in his time. It was a private 
 life ; his teaching was a teaching for individuals. What has publicly 
 befallen vast masses of people, and the minor parts which compose 
 them, belongs to the general history of the world, to the general 
 religion of the world ; the religion we have named the first. What 
 inwardly befalls individuals, belongs to the second religion, the 
 philosophical : such a religion was it that Christ taught and practiced, 
 so long as he went about on earth. For this reason, the external here 
 closes, and I now open to you the internal." 
 
 A door went back, and they entered a similar gallery ; where Wil- 
 helm soon recognized a corresponding series of pictures from the New 
 Testament. They seemed as if by another hand than the first : all 
 was softer ; fonns, movements, accompaniments, light and coloring. 
 " Here," said the guide, after they had looked over a few pictures, 
 "you behold neither actions nor events, but miracles and similitudes. 
 There is here a new world, a new exterior, different from the former ; 
 and an interior, which was altogether wanting there. By miracles 
 and similitudes, a new world is opened up. Those make the common 
 extraordinary, these the extraordinary common. 
 
 " You will have the goodness," said Wilhelm, "to explain these 
 few words more minutely ; for, by my own light, I cannot." 
 
 " They have a natural meaning," said the other, " though a deep 
 one. Examples will bring it out most easily and soonest. There is 
 nothing more common and customary than eating and drinking ; but 
 it is extraordinary to transform a drink into another of more noble 
 sort ; to multiply a portion of food that it suffice a multitude. Noth- 
 ing is more common than sickness and corporeal diseases ; but to 
 remove, to mitigate these by spiritual or spiritual-like means, is ex- 
 traordinary ; and even in this lies the wonder of the miracle, that the 
 common and the extraordinary, the possible and the impossible, be- 
 come one. With the similitude again, with the parable, the converse 
 is the case : here it is the sense, the view, the idea, that forms the 
 high, the unattainable, the extraordinary. When this embodies 
 itself in a common, customary, comprehensible figure, so that it 
 meets us as if alive, present, actual ; so that we can seize it, appro- 
 priate, retain it, live with it as with our equal, — this is a second sort 
 of miracle, and is justly placed beside the iirst sort, nay, perhaps pre-
 
 GBAPTER XT. 499 
 
 ferred to it. Here a living doctrine is pronounced, a doctrine which 
 can cause no argument : it is not an opinion about what is right and 
 wrong ; it is right and wrong themselves, and indisputably." 
 
 This part of the gallery was shorter ; indeed it formed but the 
 fourth part of the circuit inclosing the interior court. Yet if in the 
 former part you merely walked along, you here liked to linger, you 
 here walked to and fro. The objects were not so striking, not so 
 varied : yet they invited you the more to penetrate their deep still 
 meaning. Our two friends, accordingly, turned round at the end of 
 the space ; Wilhelm, at the same time, expressing some surprise 
 that these delineations went no farther than the supper, than the 
 scene where the Master and his disciples part. He inquired for the 
 remaining portion of the history. 
 
 " In all sorts of instruction," said the eldest, " in all sorts of com- 
 munication, we are fond of separating whatever it is possible to 
 separate ; for by this means alone can the notion of importance and 
 peculiar significance arise in the young mind. Actual experience of 
 itself mingles and mixes all things together : here, accordingly, we 
 have entirely disjoined that sublime Man's life from its termination. 
 In life, he appears as a true philosopher — let not the expression 
 stagger you — as a wise man in the highest sense. He stands firm to 
 his point ; he goes on his way inflexibly ; and while he exalts the 
 lower to himself, while he makes the ignorant, the poor, the sick, 
 partakers of his wisdom, of his riches, of his strength, he, on the 
 other hand, in no wise conceals his divine origin ; he dares to equal 
 himself with God, nay, to declare that he himself is God. In this 
 manner is he wont, from youth upwards, to astound his familiar 
 friends ; of these he gains a part to his own cause ; irritates the rest 
 against him ; and shows to all men, who are aiming at a certain ele- 
 vation in doctrine and life, what they have to look for from the 
 world. And thus, for the noble portion of mankind his walk and 
 conversation are even more instructive and profitable than his death : 
 for to those trials every one is called, to this trial but a few. Now, 
 omitting all the results from this consideration, do but look at the 
 touching scene of the Last Supper. Here the wise man, as it ever 
 is, leaves those that are his own utterly orphaned behind him ; and 
 while he is careful for the good, he feeds along with them a traitor 
 by whom he and the better are to be destroyed." 
 
 With these words the eldest opened the door ; and Wilhelm fal- 
 tered in surprise, as he found himself again in the first hall at the 
 entrance. They had, in the meanwhile, as he now saw, passed 
 round the whole circuit of the court. "I hoped," said Wilhelm, 
 " you were leading me to the conclusion, and you take me back to 
 the beginning." 
 
 " For the present," said the eldest, " I can show you nothing far- 
 ther : uiore we do not lay before our pupils, more we do not explain 
 to them, than what you have gone through. All that is external.
 
 500 . MEISTER- 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 worldly, universal, we communicate to each from youth upwards ; 
 what is more particularly spiritual and conversant with the heart, to 
 those only who grow up with some thoughtfulness of temper ; and 
 the rest, which is opened only once a year, cannot be imparted save 
 to those whom we are sending forth as finished. That last religion 
 which arises from the reverence of what is beneath us ; that venera- 
 tion of the contradictory, the hated, the avoided, we give each of our 
 pupils, in small portions by way of outfit, along with him into the 
 world, merely that he may know where more is to be had, should 
 such a want spring up within him. I invite you to return hither at 
 the end of a year, to visit our general festival, and see how far your 
 son is advanced : then shall you be admitted into the Sanctuary of 
 Sorrow. " 
 
 " Permit me one question,'- said Wilhelm : "as you have set up 
 the life of this divine Man for a pattern and example, have you like- 
 wise selected his sufferings, his death, as a model of exalted patience ? " 
 
 "Undoubtedly we have," replied the eldest. "Of this we make 
 no secret ; but we draw a veil over those sufferings, even because we 
 reverence them so highly. We hold it a damnable audacity to bring 
 forth that torturing cross and the Holy One who suffers on it, or to 
 expose them to the light of the sun, which hid its face when a reckless 
 world forced such a sight on it ; to take these mysterious secrets, in 
 which the divine depth of sorrow lies hid, and play with them, fondle 
 them, trick them out, and rest not till the most reverend of all solemni- 
 ties appears vulgar and paltry. Let so much, for the present, suffice 
 to put your mind at peace respecting your son ; and to convince you, 
 that on meeting him again, you will find him trained, more or less, 
 in one department or another, but at least in a proper way ; and, at 
 all events, not wavering, perplexed and unstable." 
 
 Wilhelm still lingered, looking at the pictures in this entrance-hall, 
 and wishing to get explanation of their meaning. " This too," said 
 the eldest, " we must still owe you for a twelvemonth. The instruc- 
 tion, which, in the interim, we give the children, no stranger is 
 allowed to witness : then, however, come to us ; and you will hear 
 what our best speakers think it serviceable to make public on these 
 matters." 
 
 Shortly after this conversation, a knocking was heard at the little 
 gate. The overseer of last night announced himself ; he had brought 
 out Wilhelm's horse ; and so our friend took leave of the three ; who, 
 as he set out, consigned him to the overseer with these words : " This 
 man is now numbered among the trusted, and thou understandest 
 what thou hast to tell him in answer to his questions ; for, doubtless, 
 he still wishes to be informed on much that he has seen and heard 
 while here : purj^ose and circumstance are known to thee." 
 
 Wilhelm had, in fact, some questions on his mind ; and these he 
 ere long put into words. As they rode along, they were saluted by 
 the children, as on the preceding evening ; but to-day, though rarely,
 
 CHAPTER XL • 501 
 
 lie now and then observed a boy who did not pause in his work to 
 salute the overseer, but let him pass unheeded. Wilhelm asked the 
 cause of this, aud what such an exception meant. His companion 
 answered : " It is full of meaning ; for it is the highest punishment 
 which we inflict on our pupils : they are declared unworthy to show 
 reverence, and obliged to exhibit themselves as rude and uncultivated 
 natures ; but they do their utmost to get free of this situation, and in 
 general adapt themselves with great rapidity to any duty. Should a 
 young creature, on the other hand, obdurately make no attempt at 
 return and amendment, he is then sent back to his parents, with a 
 brief but pointed statement of his case. Whoever cannot suit himself 
 to the regulations, must leave the district where they are in force." 
 
 Another circum.stance excited Wilhelm's curio-sity to-day, as it had 
 done yesterday : the variety of color and shape apparent in tlie dress 
 of the pupils. Hereby no gradation could be indicated ; for children 
 who saluted differently, were sometimes clothed alike ; and others 
 agreeing in salutation, differed in apparel. Wilhelm inquired the rea- 
 son of this seeming contradiction. " It will be explained," said the 
 other, " when I tell you that by this means we endeavor to find out 
 the children's several characters. With all our general strictness and 
 regularity, we allow in this point a certain latitude of choice. With- 
 in the limits of our own stores of cloths and garnitures, the pupils are 
 permitted to select what color they please ; and so likewise, within 
 moderate limits, in regard to shape and cut. Their procedure, in 
 these matters, we accurately note ; for by the color we discover theii* 
 turn of thinking ; by the cut, their turn of acting. However, a de- 
 cisive judgment in this is rendered difficult by one peculiar property 
 of human nature, by the tendency to imitate, the inclination to unite 
 with something. It is very seldom that a pupil fancies any dress that 
 has not been already there ; for most part, they select something 
 known, something which they see before their eyes. Yet this also 
 we find worthy observing ; by such external circumstances, they 
 declare themselves of one party or another , they unite with this or 
 that ; and thus some general features of their characters are indicated ; 
 we perceive whither each tends, what example he follows. 
 
 " We have had cases where the dispositions of our children verged 
 to generality ; where one fashion threatened to extend over all ; and 
 any deviation from it to dwindle into the state of exception. Such a 
 turn of matters we endeavor softly to stop ; we let our stores run out ; 
 this and that sort of stuff, this and that sort of decoration is no longer 
 to be had ; we introduce something new and attractive ; by bright col- 
 ors and short smart shape, we allure the lively ; by grave shadings, by 
 commodious many-folded make, the thoughtful ; and thus, by degrees, 
 nsstore the equilibrium. 
 
 / " For to uniform we are altogether disinclined ; it conceals the char- 
 acter, and, more than any other sjiecies of distortion, withdraws the 
 peculiarities of children from the eye of their superiors."!
 
 502 • MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 Amid this and other conversation, Wilhelm reached the border of 
 the province ; and this at the point, where, by the direction of his 
 antiquarian friend, he was to leave it, to pursue his next special ob- 
 ject. 
 
 At parting, it was now settled with the overseer, that after the space 
 of a twelvemonth, Wilhelm should return, when the grand triennial 
 festival was to be celebrated ; on which occasion all the parents were 
 invited ; and finished pupils were sent forth into the tasks of chance- 
 ful life. Then too, so he was informed, he might visit at his pleasure 
 all the other districts ; where, on peculiar principles, each branch of 
 education was communicated and reduced to practice in complete iso- 
 lation, and with every furtherance. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 HERSILIA TO WILHELM 
 
 My valued, and to speak it plainly, dear friend, you are wrong ; and 
 yet, as acting on your own conviction, not wrong either. So the nut- 
 brown maid is found, then ; found, seen, spoken to, known and ac- 
 knowledged ! And you tell us farther, that it is impossible to wish 
 this strange person, in her own way, any happier condition ; or, in 
 her present one, lo be of any real advantage to her. 
 
 And now you make it a point of conscience not to tell us where 
 that wondrous being lives. This you may settle with your own con- 
 science ; but to us it is unconscionable. You think to calm Lenardo 
 by assuring him that she is well. He had said, almost promised, 
 that he would content himself with this ; but what will not the pas- 
 sionate promise for others and themselves ! Know then that the 
 matter is not in the least concluded as it yet stands. She is happy, 
 you tell us, happy by her own activity and merit ; but the youth 
 would like to learn the how, the when and the where ; and, what is 
 worse than this, his sisters too would like to learn. Half a year is 
 gone since your departure ; till the end of another half year we can- 
 not hope to see you. Could not you, like a shrewd and knowing 
 man, contrive to play your eternal Roitge-et-Noir in our neighborhood ? 
 I have seen people that could make the knight skip over all the chess- 
 board without ever lighting twice on one spot. You should learn 
 this feat ; your friends would not have to want you so long. 
 
 But, to set my good-will to you in the clearest light, I now tell you 
 in confidence, that there are two most enchanting creatures on the 
 road ; whence I say not, nor whither ; described they cannot be, and 
 no eulogy will do them justice. A younger and an elder lady, be- 
 tween whom it always grieves one to make choice ; the former so
 
 CHAPTER XII. - 503 
 
 lovely, that all must wish to be loved by her ; the latter so attractive 
 that you must wisli to live beside her, though she did not love you. 
 I could like, with all my heart, to see you hemmed in, for three days, 
 between these two splendors ; on the morning of tlae fourth, your 
 rigorous vow would stand you in excellent stead. 
 
 By way of foretaste, I send you a story, which in some degree re- 
 fers to them ; what of it is true or fictitious, you can try to learn 
 from themselves. 
 
 THE MAN OF FIFTY. 
 
 The major came riding into the court of the mansion ; and Hilaria, 
 his niece, was already standing without to receive him, at the bottom 
 of the stairs which led up to the apartments. Scarcely could he 
 recognize her, for she had grown both in stature and beauty. She 
 flew to meet him ; he pressed her to his breast with the feeling of a 
 father. 
 
 To the baroness, his sister, he was likewise welcome ; and as Hilaria 
 hastily retired to prepare breakfast, the major said, with a joyful air : 
 " For this time I can come to the point at once, and say that our busi- 
 ness is finished. Our brother, the chief marshal, has at last convinced 
 himself that he can neither manage farmers nor stewards. In his life- 
 time he malces over the estates to us and our children ; the annuity 
 he bargains for is higli, indeed ; but we can still pay it : we gain 
 something for the present, and for the future all. This new arrange- 
 ment is to be completed forthwith. And as I very soon expect my 
 discharge, I can again look forward to an active life, which may 
 secure decided advantages to us and ours. We shall calmly see our 
 children growing up beside us ; and it will depend on us, on them, to 
 hasten their union." 
 
 "All this were well," said the baroness, "had not I a secret to 
 inform thee of, which I myself discovered first. Hilaria's lieart is 
 no longer free ; on her side thy son has little or nothing to hope 
 for." 
 
 " What sayest thou ?" cried the major. "Is it possible? While 
 we have been taking all pains to settle economical concerns, does 
 inclination play us such a trick? Tell me, love, quick tell me, who 
 is it that has fettered Hilaria's heart ? Or is it, then, so bad as this ? 
 Is it not, perhaps, some transient impression we may hope to efface 
 again?" 
 
 " Thou must think and guess a little first," replied the baroness, 
 and thereby heightened his impatience. It had mounted to the utmost 
 pitch, when the entrance of Hilaria, with the servants bringing in 
 breakfast, put a negative on any quick solution of the riddle. 
 
 The major himself thought he saw the fair girl with other eyes 
 than a little while before. He almost felt as if jealous of the happy 
 man, whose image had been able to imprint itself on a soul so lovely. 
 The breakfast he could not relish ; and he noticed not that all was
 
 504 MEISTEB'8 TRAVELS. 
 
 ordered as lie liked to have it, and as he had used to wish and re- 
 quire it. 
 
 In this silence and stagnation, Hilaria herself almost lost her liveli- 
 ness. The mother felt embarrassed, and led her daughter to the 
 harpsichord ; but Hilaria's sprightly and expressive playing scarcely 
 extorted any approbation from the major. He wished the breakfast 
 and the lovely girl fairly out of the way ; and the baroness was at last 
 obliged to resolve on breaking up, and proposed to her brother a walk 
 in the garden. 
 
 No sooner were they by themselves, than the major pressingly 
 repeated his question ; to which, after a pause, his sister answered, 
 smiling : " If thou wouldst find the happy man whom she loves, thou 
 hast not far to go, he is quite at hand ; she loves thee ! " 
 
 The major stopped in astonishment, then cried : "It were a most 
 unseasonable jest to' trick me into such a thought, which, if true, 
 would make me so embarrassed and unhappy. For though I need 
 time to recover from my amazement, I see at one glance how griev- 
 ously our circumstances would be disturbed by so unlooked-for an 
 incident. The only thing that comforts me is my persuasion that 
 attachments of this soit are apparent merely ; that a self-deception 
 lurks behind them, and that a good, true soul will undoubtedly return 
 from such mistakes, either by its own strength, or at least by a little 
 help from judicious friends." 
 
 " I am not of that opinion," said the baroness ; " by all the symp- 
 toms, Hilaria's present feeling is a very serious one." 
 
 " A thing so unnatural I should not have expected from so natural 
 a character," replied the major. 
 
 " So unnatural it is not, after all," said his sister. " I myself recol- 
 lect having, in my own youth, an attachment to a man still older 
 than thou. Thou art fifty ; not so very great an age for a German, 
 if perhaps other livelier nations do fail sooner." 
 
 " But how dost thou support thy conjecture 1 " said the major. 
 
 " It is no conjecture, it is certainty. The details thou shalt learn 
 by and by." 
 
 Hilaria joined them ; and the major felt himself, against his willj 
 a second time altered. Her presence seemed to him still dearer and 
 more precious than before ; her manner more afEectionate and tender ; 
 already he began to put some faith in his sister's statement. The 
 feeling was highly delightful, though he neither would permit nor 
 confess this to his mind. Hilaria was, in truth, peculiarly interest- 
 ing ; her manner blended in closest union a soft shyness as towards a 
 lover, and a trustful frankness as towards an uncle ; for she really, 
 and with her whole soul, loved him. The garden lay in all the pomp 
 of spring ; and the major, who saw so many old trees again putting 
 on their vesture, might also believe in the returning of his own spring. 
 And who would not have been tempted to it, at the side of this most 
 lovely maiden?
 
 CHAPTER Xlt. 505 
 
 So passed tlie day with them : the various household epochs were 
 goue through in high cheerfulness ; in the evening, after supper, 
 Hilaria, returned to lier harpsichord ; the major listened with other 
 ears than in the morning ; one melody winded into another ; one 
 song produced a second ; and scarcely could midnight separate the 
 little party. 
 
 On retiring to his room, the major found everything arranged to suit 
 his old habitual conveniences ; some copper-plates, even, which he 
 liked to look at, had been shifted from other apartments ; and his eyes 
 being at last opened, he saw himself attended to and flattered in the 
 most minute particulars. 
 
 A few hours' sleep sufficed on this occasion ; his buoyant spirits 
 aroused him early. But now he soon found occasion to observe, that 
 a new order of things carries many inconveniences along with it. 
 His old groom, who also discharged the functions of lackey and valet, 
 he had not once reproved during many years ; for all went its usual 
 course in the most rigid order ; the horses were dressed, and the 
 clothes brushed, at the proper moment ; but to-day the master had 
 risen earlier, and nothing suited as it used to do. 
 
 Ere long a new circumstance combined with this to ruffle him still 
 farther. At other times all had been right, as his servant had pre- 
 pared it for him ; now, however, on advancing to the glass, he found 
 himself not at all as he wished to be. Some gray hairs he could 
 not deny ; and of wrinkles also there appears to have been a trace or 
 two. He wiped and powdered more that usual ; and was fain at last 
 to let matters stand as they could. Then, it seemed, there were still 
 creases in his coat, and still dust on his boots. The old groom knew 
 not what to make of this, and was amazed to see so altered a master 
 before him. 
 
 In spite of all these hindrances, the major got down to the garden 
 in good time. Hilaria, whom he hoped to find there, he actually 
 found. She brought him a nosegay, and he had not the heart to kiss 
 her as usual, and press her to his breast. He felt himself in the most 
 delightful embarrassment, and yielded to his feelings, without reflect- 
 ing whither they might carry him. 
 
 . The baroness soon joined them, and directing her brother to a note 
 •which had just been brought her by a special messenger, she cried : 
 " Thou wilt not guess whom this announces to us ! " 
 
 " Tell us at once, then," said the major ; and it now appeared that 
 an old theatrical friend was traveling by a road not far off, and pur- 
 posing to call for a moment. " I am anxious to see him again," 
 said the major : " he is no chicken now ; and I hear he still plays young 
 parts." 
 
 " He must be ten years older than thou," replied the baroness. 
 
 " He must," said the major, " from all that I remember." 
 
 They had not waited long, when a lively, handsome, courteous 
 man stepped forward to them. Yet the friends soon recognized each
 
 506 MEISTER' 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 other ; and recollections of all sorts enlivened the conversation. They 
 proceeded to questions, to answers to narratives ; they mutually made 
 known their present situations, and in a short time felt as if they had 
 never been separated. 
 
 Secret history informs us that this person had, in former days, 
 being then a very elegant and graceful youth, had the good or bad 
 fortune to attract the favor of a lady of rank ; that by this means 
 he had come into perplexity and danger ; out of which the major, at 
 the very moment when the saddest fate seemed impending, had hap- 
 pily delivered him. From that hour he continued grateful, to the 
 brother as well as to the sister ; for it was she that, by timef ul warn- 
 ing, had originated their precautions. 
 
 For a while before dinner, the men were left alone. Not without 
 surprise, nay, in some measure, with amazement, had the major 
 viewed as a whole, and in detail, the exterior condition of his old 
 friend. He seemed not in the smallest altered ; and it was not to be 
 wondered at that he could still appear on the stage as an actor of 
 youthful parts. "Thou inspectest me more strictly than is fair," 
 said he at last to the major : " I fear thou findest the difference be- 
 tween this and bygone times but too great." 
 
 " Not at all," replied the major : " on the contrary, it fills me with 
 astonishment to find thy look fresher and younger than mine ; 
 though I know thou wert a firmset man at the time when I with the 
 boldness of a callow desperado, stood by thee in certain straits." 
 
 " It is thy own fault," replied the other ; " it is the fault of all like 
 thee ; and though you are not to be loudly censured for it, you are 
 still to be blamed. You think only of the needful ; you wish to be, 
 not to seem. This is very well, so long as one is anything. But 
 when, at last, being comes to recommend itself by seeming, and this 
 seeming is found to be even more transient than the being, then 
 every one of you discovers that he would not have done amiss, if, in 
 his care for what was inward, be had not entirely neglected what 
 was outward." 
 
 " Thou art right," replied the major, and could scarcely suppress 
 a sigh. 
 
 " Perhaps not altogether right," said the aged youth ; " for though 
 in my trade it were unpardonable if one did not try to parget-up the 
 outward man as long as possible, you people need to think of other 
 things, which are more important and profitable." 
 
 "Yet there are occasions," said the major, "when a man feels 
 fresh internally, and could wish, with all his heart, that he were 
 fresh externally too." 
 
 As the stranger could not have the slightest suspicion of the 
 major's real state of mind, he took these words in a soldierly sense ; 
 and copiously explained how much depended on externals in the art 
 military, and how the officer, who had so much attention to bestow 
 on dress, might apply a little also to skin and hair.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 507 
 
 " For example," continued he, " it is indubitable that your temples 
 are already gray, that wrinkles are here and there gathering together, 
 and that your crown threatens to grow bald. Now look at me, old 
 fellow as I am ! See how I have held out ! And all this without 
 •witchcraft ; and with far less pains and care than others take, day 
 after day, in spoiling, or at least wearying themselves." 
 
 The major found this accidental conversation too precious an afEair 
 to think of ending it soon ; but he went to work softly, and with 
 precaution towards even an old acquaintance. " This opportunity, 
 alas, I have lost," cried he ; " and it is past recalling now : I must 
 even content myself as I am, and you will not think worse of me on 
 that account." 
 
 " Lost it is not," said the other, " were not you grave gentlemen 
 so stifE and stubborn ; did you not directly call one vain, if he thinks 
 about his person, and cast away from you the happiness of being in 
 pleasant company, and pleasing there yourselves." 
 
 " If it is not magic," smiled the major, " that you people use for 
 keeping yourselves young, it is at all events a secret ; or at least you 
 have arcana, such as one often sees bepraised in newspapers, and 
 from these you pick out the best." 
 
 " Joke or earnest," said the other, " thou hast spoken truth. Among 
 the many things that have been tried for giving some repair to the 
 exterior, which often fails far sooner than the interior, there are, in 
 fact certain invaluable recipes, simple as well as compound ; which, 
 as imparted to me by brethren of the craft, purchased for ready 
 money, or hit upon by chance, I have proved and found effectual. 
 By these I now hold fast and persevere, yet without abandoning my 
 farther researches. So much I may tell thee, and without exaggera- 
 tion : A dressing-box I carry with me beyond all price ! A box, 
 whose influences I could like to try on thee, if we chanced any time 
 to be a fortnight together." 
 
 The thought that such a thing was possible, and that this possibility 
 was held out to him so accidentally at the very moment of need, enliv- 
 ened the spirit of the major to such a degree, that he actually ap- 
 peared much fresher and brisker already ; at table, excited by the 
 hope of bringing head and face into harmony with his heart, and by 
 eagerness to get acquainted with the methods of doing so, he was quite 
 another man ; he met Hilaria's graceful attentions with alacrity of 
 soul, and even looked at her with a certain confidence, which in the 
 morning he was far from feeling. 
 
 If the dramatic stranger had contrived, by many recollections, sto- 
 ries and happy hits, to keep up the cheerful humor once excited, he 
 so much the more alarmed the major, on signifying when the cloth 
 was removed, that he must now think of setting forth and continuing 
 his journey. By every scheme in his power, the major strove to 
 facilitate his friend's stay, at least for the night ; he pressingly en- 
 gaged to have horses and relays in readiness next morning ; in a word.
 
 508 MEISTEB'S TRAVELS. 
 
 the healing toilet was absolutely not to get out of the premises, till 
 once he had obtained more light on its contents and use. 
 
 The major saw very well that here no time must be lost ; he 
 accordingly endeavored, soon after dinner, to take his old favorite 
 aside, and speak with him in private. Not having the heart to pro- 
 ceed directly to the point, he steered towards it afar off ; and, taking 
 up the former conversation, signified : That he, for his part, would 
 Avillingly bestow more care on his exterior, were it not that people, 
 the moment they observed a man making such an attempt, marked 
 him down for vain ; and so deducted from him in regard to moral 
 esteem, what they felt obliged to yield him in regard to sensible. 
 
 " Do not vex me with such phrases ! " said his friend. " These are 
 words to which society has got accustomed, without attaching any 
 meaning to them ; or if we take it up more strictly, by which it indi- 
 cates its unfriendly and spiteful nature. If thou consider it rightly, 
 what, after all, is this same vanity they make so much ado about '? 
 Every man should feel souie pleasure in himself, and happy he who 
 feels it. But if he does feel it, how can he help letting others notice 
 it ? How shall he hide, in the midst of life, that it gives him joy to 
 be alive ? If good society, and I mean this exclusively here, only 
 blamed such indications when they became too violent ; when the 
 joy of one man over his existence hindered others to have joy and to 
 show it over theirs, it were good and well ; and from this excess the 
 censure has, in fact, originally sprung. But what are we to make of 
 that strange, prim, abnegating rigor against a thing which cannot be 
 avoided? Why should not a display of feeling on the part of others 
 be considered innocent and tolerable, which, more or less, we from 
 time to time allow ourselves. Foif it is the pleasure one has in him- 
 self, the desire to communicate this consciousness of his to others, 
 that makes a man agreeable ; the feeling of his own grace that makes 
 him graceful. . Would to Heaven &\\ men were vain ! that is, were 
 vain with clear perception, with moderation and in a proper sense ; 
 we should then, in the cultivated world, have happy times of it. 
 Women, it is told us, are vain from the very cradle ; yet does it not 
 become them, do they not please us the more V How can a youth form 
 himself, if he is not vain? An empty, hollow nature, will, by this 
 means, at least contrive to give itself an outward show ; and a proper 
 man will soon train himself from the outside inwards. As to my own 
 share, I have reason to consider myself in this point a most happy 
 man ; for my trade justifies me in being vain ; and the vainer I am 
 the more satisfaction I give. I am praised when others are blamed ; 
 and have still, in this very way, the happiness and the right to gratify 
 and charm the public at an age when otliers are constrained to 
 retire from the scene, or linger on it only with disgrace. " 
 
 The major heard with no great joy the issue of these reflections. 
 The little word vanity, as he pronounced it, had been meant to serve 
 as a transition, for enabling him to introduce with some propriety the
 
 CHAPTER XII. 509 
 
 statemeut of his own wish. But now he was afraid, if their dialogue 
 proceeded thus, he should be led still farther from his aim ; so he 
 hastened to the point directly. 
 
 " For my own part," said he. " I should by no means disincline to 
 enlist under thy flag since thou ^;lill holdest it to be in time, and think- 
 est 1 might yet in some degree make up lor what is lost. Impart to 
 me somewhat of thy tinctures, pomades, and balsams ; and I will 
 make a trial of them." 
 
 " Imparting," .said the other, " is a harder task than you suppose. 
 Here, for example, it were still to small purpose that I poured thee 
 out some liquors from my vials, and left the half of the best ingre- 
 dients in my toilet : the appliance is the hardest. You cannot, on 
 the instant, appropriate what is given you : how this and that suit 
 together, under what circumstances, in what sequence things are to 
 be ased ; all this requires practice and study ; nay, study and practice 
 themselves will scarcely profit, if one bring not to the business a 
 natural genius for it." 
 
 "Thou art now, it seems, for drawing back," said the major. 
 " Thou raiseth difficulties when I would have thy truly somewhat 
 fabulous assertions rendered certain. Thou hast no mind to let me 
 try thy words by the test of action." 
 
 " By such bauterings, my friend," replied the other, " thou wouldst 
 not prevail on me to gratify thy wish ; if it were not that I entertain 
 such affection for thee, and indeed first made the proposal myself. 
 Besides, if we consider it,^man has quite a peculiar pleasure in making 
 proselytes ; in bringing what he values in himself into view also with- 
 out himself on others ; causing others to enjoy what he enjoys ; finding 
 in others his own likeness, represented and reflected back to him. In 
 sooth, if this is selfishness, it is of the most laudable and lovable sort, 
 that selfishness which has made us men and keeps us so. From this 
 universal feeling, then, apart from my friendship to thee, I shall be 
 happy in having such a scholar in the great youth-renewing art. But, 
 as from a master it may be expected that he shall produce no botcher 
 by his training, I confess myself a little at a loss how to set about it. 
 I told thee already that neither recipes nor instructions would avail ; 
 the practice cannot be taught by universal rules. For thy sake, and 
 from the wish to propagate my doctrine, I am ready to make any sac- 
 rifice. The greatest in my power for the present moment I will now 
 propose to thee. I shall leave my servant here ; a sort of waiting- 
 man and conjurer, who, if he does not understand preparing every- 
 thing, if he has not yet been initiated into all the mysteries, can apply 
 my preparations perfectly ; and in the first stage of the attempt will 
 be of great use to thee, till once thou have worked thy way so far into 
 the art, that I may reveal to thee the higher secrets also." 
 
 " How ! " cried the major ; " thou hast stages and degrees in thy art 
 pf making young? Thou hast secrets even for the initiated?" 
 
 " No doubt of it ! " replied the other. " That were but a sorry art
 
 510 MEI8TEB' 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 wliicli could be comprehended all at once ; the last point of which 
 could be seen by one just entering its precincts." 
 
 Without loss of time, the waiting-man was formally consigned to 
 the major, who engaged to treat him handsomely. The baroness was 
 called on for drawers, boxes, glasses, to what purpose she knew not : 
 the petition of the toilet store went forward ; the friends kept together 
 in a gay and sprightly mood till after niglitfall. At moonrise, some 
 time later, the guest took his leave, promising ere long to return. 
 
 The major reached his chamber pretty mucli fatigued. He had 
 risen early, had not spared himself throughout the day, and now- 
 hoped very soon to get to bed. But here instead of one servant, he 
 found two. The old groom, in his old way, rapidly undressed him ; 
 but now the waiting -man stepped forth and signified, that for appli- 
 ances of a renovating and cosmetic nature, the peculiar season was 
 night ; that so their effects, assisted by a peaceful sleep, might be 
 stronger and safer. The major was obliged to content himself, and 
 let his head be anointed, his face painted, his eyebrows penciled, and 
 his lips tipped with salve. Besides all this, there were various cere- 
 monies still required : nay, the very nightcap was not to be put on 
 immediately, not till a net, or even a fine leather cap, had been drawn 
 on next the head. 
 
 The major laid himself in bed with a sort of unpleasant feeling ; 
 which, however, he had no time to investigate the nature of, as he 
 very soon fell asleep. But if we might speak wdth his spirit, we 
 should say he felt himself a little mummy-like, somewhat between a 
 sick man and a man embalmed. Yet the sweet image of Hilaria, 
 encircled with the gayest hopes, soon led him into a refreshing sleep. 
 
 In the morning at the proper hour, the groom was ready in his place. 
 All that pertained to his master's equipment lay in wonted order on 
 the chairs ; and the major was just on the point of rising, when the 
 new attendant entered, and strongly protested against any such pre- 
 cipitation. He must rest, he must wait, if their enterprise was to 
 prosper, if they were to be rewarded for their pains and labor. The 
 major now learned that he had to rise by and by, to take a slight 
 breakfast and then go into a bath, which was already prepared for 
 him. The regulations were inflexible ; they required a strict obser- 
 vance ; and some hours passed away under these occupations. 
 
 The major abridged the resting-time after his bath, and thought 
 to get his clothes about him ; for he was by nature expeditious, and 
 at present he longed to see Hilaria ; but in this point also his new 
 servant thwarted him ; and signified, that in all cases he must drop 
 the thought of being in a hurry. Whatever he did, it appeared, must 
 be done leisurely and pleasurably ; but the time of dressing was 
 especially to be considered as a cheerful hour for conversation with 
 one's self. 
 
 The valet's manner of proceeding completely agreed with his words. 
 But, in return, the major, when, on stepping forward to the glass, he
 
 OHAPtER XtL 511 
 
 saw himself trimmed out in the neatest fashion, really thought that 
 he was belter dressed than formerly. Without many words, the con- 
 juror had changed the very uniform into a newer cut, having spent 
 the night in working at it. An apparently so quick rejuvenescence 
 put the major in his liveliest mood ; so that he felt himself as if reno- 
 vated both without and within, and hastened with impatient longing 
 to his friends. 
 
 He found his sister engaged in looking at the pedigree v^diich she 
 had caused to be hung up; the conversation last night having turned 
 on some collateral relations, unmarried persons, or resident in foreign 
 countries, or entirely gone out of sight, from all of whom the bar- 
 oness and her brother had more or less hope of heritages for them- 
 selves or their families. They conversed a while on these matters, 
 without mentioning the circumstance that all their economical cares 
 and exertions had hitherto been solely directed to tlieir children. By 
 Hilaria's attachment the whole of this prospect had altered ; yet 
 neither the major nor bis sister could summon courage to mention it 
 farther, at this moment. 
 
 The baroness left the room ; the major was standing alone before 
 this laconic history of his family ; Hilaria stepped in to him ; she leaned 
 herself on him in a kind, child-like way, looked at the parchment, and 
 asked him whom of all these he had known, and who of them were 
 still left and living. 
 
 The major began his delineation with the oldest, of whom any dim 
 recollection remained with him from childhood. Then he proceeded 
 farther ; painted the characters of several fathers, the likeness or 
 unlikeness of their children to them ; remarked that the grandfather 
 often reappeared in the grandson ; spoke, by the way, of the influence 
 of certain women, wedded out of strange families, and sometimes 
 changing the character of whole branches. He eulogized the virtue 
 of many an ancestor and relative, nor did he hide their failings. Such 
 as had brought shame on their lineage he passed in silence. At 
 length he reached the lowest lines. Here stood his brother, the chief 
 marshal, himself, and his sister, and beneath him his son, with Hila- 
 ria at his side. 
 
 " These two look each other straight enough in the face," said the 
 major ; not adding what he thought of the matter in his heart. 
 
 After a pause Hilaria answered, in a meek small tone, and almost 
 with a sigh : " Yet those, surely, are not to blame who look upwards." 
 At the same time she looked up to him with a pair of eyes, out of 
 which her whole love was speaking. 
 
 " Do I understand thee rightly ? " said the major, turning round to 
 her. 
 
 " I can say nothing," answered she, with a smile, " which you do 
 not -know already. " 
 
 " Thou makest me the happiest man under the sun," cried he, and 
 fell at her feet. " Wilt thou be mine? "
 
 512 MEISTER'8 TRAVELS. 
 
 "For Heaven's sake rise ! I am thine forever." 
 
 The baroness entered. Though not surprised, she rather hesitated. 
 "If it be wrong, sister," said the major, " the blame is thine ; if it 
 be right, we will thank thee forever." 
 
 The baroness from youth upwards had so loved her brother, that 
 she preferred him to all men ; and perhaps Hilaria's attachment it- 
 self had, if not arisen from this sisterly partiality, at least been cher- 
 ished by it. All three now united in one love, in one delight ; and 
 thus the happiest hours flew over them. Yet at last their eyes re- 
 opened to the world around them likewise ; and this rarely stands 
 in unison with such emotions. 
 
 They now again bethought them of the son. For him Hilaria had 
 been destined ; this he himself well knew. Directly after finishing 
 the business with the chief marshal, the major had appointed his son 
 to expect him in the garrison, that they might settle everything 
 together, and conduct these purposes to a happy issue. But now, by 
 an unexpected occurrence, the whole state of matters had been thrown 
 out of joint ; the circumstances which before plied into one aiiother so 
 kindly, now seemed to be assuming a hostile aspect ; and it was not 
 easy to foresee what turu the affair would take, what temper v/ould 
 seize the individuals concerned in it. 
 
 Meanwhile the major was obliged to resolve on visiting his son, 
 to whom he had already announced himself. Not without reluctance, 
 not without singular forecastings, not without pain at even for a short 
 time leaving Hilaria, he at last, after much lingering, took the road ; 
 and leaving groom and horses behind him, proceeded with his cos- 
 metic valet, who had now become an indispensable appendage, to- 
 wards the town where his son resided. 
 
 Both saluted and embraced each other cordially, after so long a 
 separation. They had much to commimicate ; yet they did not just 
 commence with what lay nearest their hearts. The son went into 
 copious talk about his hopes of speedy advancement ; in return for 
 which, the father gave him precise accounts of what had been dis- 
 cussed and determined between the elder members of the family, both 
 in regard to fortune in general, to the individual estates, and every- 
 thing pertaining to them. 
 
 The conversation was in some degree beginning to flag, when the 
 son took heart, and said to his father, with a smile : " You treat me 
 very tenderly, dear father, and I thank you for it. You tell me of 
 properties and fortune, and mention not the terms under which, at 
 least in part, they are to be mine : you keep back the name of 
 Hilaria ; you expect that 1 should bring it forth, that I should express 
 my desire to be speedily united with that amiable maiden." 
 
 At these words the major felt himself in great perplexity ; but as, 
 partly by nature, partly by old habit, it was his way to collect the 
 purpose of the man he had to treat with before stating his own, he 
 now said nothing, and looked at the son with an ambiguous smile.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 513 
 
 " You will not guess, father, what I have to say," continued the 
 lieutenant ; " I will speak it 6ut briefly, and once for all. I can 
 depend on your affection, which, amid such manifold care for me, has 
 doubtless an eye to my true happiness as well as my fortune. Some 
 time or other it must be said ; be it said then even now ; Hilaria can- 
 not make me happy ! I think of Hilaria as of a lovely relative, 
 towards whom I would live all my days with the friendliest feel- 
 ings ; but another has awakened my affection, another has bound 
 my heart. The attachment is irresistible ; you will not make me 
 miserable." 
 
 Not without effort did the major conceal the cheerfulness which 
 was rising over his face ; and in a tone of mild seriousness inquire of 
 the son : Who the person was that had so entirely subdued him? — 
 "You must .see her yourself, father," said the other; "for she can 
 as little be described as comprehended. I have but one fear, — that 
 you yourself will be led away by her, like every one that approaches 
 her. By Heaven, it will be so ; and I shall see you the rival of your 
 son I " 
 
 " But who is she, then? " inquired the major. "If it is not in thy 
 power to delineate her personal characteristics, tell me at least of her 
 outward circumstances ; these at least may be described." 
 
 "Well, then, father," replied the son : "and yet these outward 
 circumstances too would be different in a different person, would 
 act otherwise on another. She is a young widow, heiress of an 
 old rich man lately deceased ; independent, and well meriting to be 
 so ; acquainted with many, loved by just as many, courted by just 
 as many ; yet, if I mistake not very greatly, in her heart wholly 
 mine." 
 
 With joyful vivacity, as the father kept silence, and gave no sign 
 of disapproval, the son proceeded to describe the conduct of the fair 
 widow towards him ; told of her all-conquering grace ; recounted one 
 by one her tender expressions of favor ; in which the father truly 
 could see nothing but the light friendliness of a universally-courted 
 woman who among so many may indeed prefer some one, yet without 
 on that account entirely deciding for him. Under any other circum- 
 stances he would doubtless have endeavored to warn a son, nay, even 
 a friend, of tha self-deception which might probably enough be at 
 work here ; but in the present case he himself was so anxious for his 
 son's being right, for the fair widow's reelly loving him, and as soon 
 as possible deciding in his favor, that he either felt no scruple of 
 this sort, or banished any such from his mind, perhaps even only con- 
 cealed it. 
 
 " Thou placest me in great perplexity," began the father, after 
 some pause. " The whole arrangement between the surviving mem- 
 bers of our family depends on the understanding that thou wed 
 Hilaria. If she wed a stranger, the whole fair, careful combination 
 of a fine fortune falls to the ground again, and thou thyself art not 
 Meister — 17
 
 514 ~ METSTEii 'S TEA VELS. 
 
 too well provided for. Tliere is certainly anotlier way still, "but one 
 wWcli sounds rather strange, and by which thou wouldst gain very 
 little : I, in my old days, might wed Hilaria ; a plan which could 
 hardly give thee any very high satisfaction." 
 
 " The highest in the world ! " exclaimed the lieutenant ; " for who 
 can feel a true attachment, who can enjoy or anticipate the happi- 
 ness of love, without wishing every friend, every one whom he 
 values, the like supreme felicity ! You are not old, father ; and 
 how lovely is Hilaria ! Even the transient thought of offering her 
 your hand bespeaks a youthful heart, an unimpaired spirit. Let us 
 take up this thought, this project, on the spot, and consider and in- 
 vestigate it thoroughly. My own happiness would be complete, if I 
 knew you happy : I could then rejoice in good earnest, that the care 
 you had bestowed on my destiny was repaid on your own by so fair 
 and high a recompense. I can now with confidence and frankness, 
 and true openness or heart, conduct you to my fair one. You will 
 approve of my feelings, since you yourself feel : you will not impede 
 the happiness of your son, since you are advancing to your own hap- 
 piness. " 
 
 With these, and other importunate words, the lieutenant repressed 
 many a scruple which his father was for introducing ; left him no 
 time to calculate, but hurried off \Vith him to the fair widow ; whom 
 they found in a commodious and splendid house, with a select rather 
 than numerous party, all engaged in cheerful conversation. She 
 was one of those female souls whom no man can escape. With in- 
 credible address she contrived to make our major the hero of this 
 evening. The rest of the party seemed to be her family ; the major 
 alone was her guest. His circumstances she already knew very well ; 
 yet she had the skill to ask about them, as if she were wishing, now 
 at last, to get right information on the subject from himself ; and so, 
 likewise, every individual of the company was made to show some 
 interest in the stranger. One must have known his brother, a sec- 
 ond his estates, a third something else concerned with him ; so that 
 the major, in the midst of a lively conversation, still felt himself to 
 be the center. Moreover, he was sitting next the fair one ; her eyes 
 were on him, her smile was directed to him ; in a word, he felt him- 
 self so comfortable, that he almost forgot the cause which had 
 brought him. She herself scarcely ever mentioned his son, though 
 the young man took a keen share in the conversation ! it seemed as 
 if in her eyes, he, like all the rest, was present only on his father's 
 account. 
 
 The guests strolled up and down the rooms, and grouped them- 
 selves into accidental knots. The lieutenant stepped up to his fair 
 one, and asked : " What say you to my father? " 
 
 With a smile she replied : " Methinks you might well take him 
 as a pattern. Do but look how neatly he is dressed ! If his manner 
 and bearing are not better than his gentle son's ! " And thus she
 
 CHAPTER XII. 515 
 
 continued to cry up and praise the father at the son's expense ; 
 awakening, by this means, a very mixed feeling of contentment and 
 jealousy in the young man's heart. 
 
 Ere long the lieutenant came in contact with his father, and re- 
 counted all this to him. It made the major's manner to his fair 
 hostess so much the more friendly ; and she, on her side, began to 
 treat him on a more lively and trustful footing. In short, we may 
 say that, when the company broke up, the major, as well as the 
 rest already belonged to her, and to her circle. 
 
 A lieavy rain prevented the guests from returning home as they 
 had come. Some coaches drove up, into which the walkers arranged 
 themselves ; only the lieutenant, under the pretext that the carriage 
 was already too crowded, let his father drive away, and stayed behind. 
 
 The major, on entering his apartment, felt actually confused and 
 giddy in mind ; uncertain of himself ; as is the case with us, on pass- 
 ing rapidly from one state to the opposite. The land still seems in 
 motion to a man who steps from shipboard ; and the light still quivers 
 in the eye of him who comes at once into darkness. So did the major 
 still feel himself encircled with the presence of that fair being. He 
 wished still to see, to hear her, again to see, again to hear her ; and 
 after some consideration he forgave his son ; nay, he thought him 
 happy that he might pretend to the appropriation of such loveliness. 
 
 From these feelings he was roused by the lieutenant, who with 
 lively expressions of rapture, rushed into the room ; embraced his 
 father, and exclaimed : " I am the happiest man in the world 1 " After 
 several more of such preliminary phrases, the two at last came to an 
 explanation. The father remarked, that the fair lady in conversing 
 with him had not mentioned the sou, or hinted at him by a single 
 syllable. — " That is just her soft, silent, half-concealing, half-discov- 
 ering way ; by which you become certain of your wishes, and yet 
 can never altogether get rid of doubt. So was she wont to treat me 
 hitherto ; but your presence, father, has done wonders. I confess it, 
 I stayed behind, that I might see her one moment longer. I found 
 her walking to and fro in her still shining rooms ; for I know it is her 
 custom, when the company is gone, no light must be extinguished. 
 She walks alone up and down in her magic halls, when the spirits are 
 dismissed which she had summoned thither. She accepted the pre- 
 text, under cover of which I came back. She spoke with kind grace, 
 though of indifferent matters. We walked to and fro through the 
 open doors, along the whole suite of chambers. We had wandered 
 several times to the end, into the little cabinet, which is lighted only 
 by a dim lamp. If she was beautiful while moving under the blaze 
 of the lusters, she was infinitely more so when illuminated by the 
 soft gleam of the lamp. We had again reached the cabinet ; and, in 
 turning, we paused for an instant. I know not what it was that 
 forced this audacity on me ; I know not how I could venture, in the 
 midst of the most ordinary conversation, all at once to seize her hand,
 
 516 MEISTEH'S TRAVELS. 
 
 to kiss that soft hand, and to press it to my heart. It was not drawn 
 away. ' Heavenly creature ! ' cried I, ' conceal thyself no longer from 
 me. If in this fair heart dwells favor for the happy man who stands 
 before thee, disclose it, confess it ! The present is the best, the high- 
 est time. Banish me, or take me to thy arms ! ' 
 
 " I know not what all I said, what I looked and expressed. She 
 withdrew not, she resisted not, she answered not. I ventured to clasp 
 her in my arms, to ask her if she would be mine. I kissed her with 
 rapture ; she pushed me away. ' Well, yes, then ; yes !' or some 
 such words, said she, in a faint tone, as if embarrassed. I retired, 
 and cried, 'I will send my father ; he shall speak for me.' ' Not a 
 word to him of this ! ' replied she, following me some steps. ' Go 
 away ; forget what has happened.' " 
 
 What the major thought, we shall not attempt to unfold. He said, 
 however, to his son : " What is to be done now, thinkest thou? To 
 my mind, the affair is, by accident, so well introduced, that we may 
 now go to work a little more formally ; that perhaps it were well if 
 I called there to-morrow, and proposed in thy name." 
 
 "for Heaven's sake, no, father ! " cried the son: " it would spoil 
 the whole business. That look, that tone, must be disturbed and de- 
 ranged by no formality. It is enough, father, that your presence 
 accelerates this union, without your uttering a word on the subject. 
 Yes, it is to you that I owe my happiness ! The respect which my 
 loved^oue entertains for you has conquered every scruple ; and never 
 would your son have found so good a moment, had not his father 
 prepared it for him ! " 
 
 These and such disclosures occupied them till far in the night. 
 They mutually settled their plans ; the major, simply for form's sake, 
 was to make a parting call, and then set out to arrange his marriage 
 witli Hilaria ; the son was to forward and accelerate his, as he should 
 find it possible. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 hersilia's postscbipt. 
 
 Hkre I break ofi, partly because I can write no more at present, 
 hut partly also to fix a thorn in your heart. Now, answer the ques- 
 ti(jii for yourself. How strangely, from all that you have read, must 
 matters stand with these ladies at present ! Till now, they had no 
 mutual relation to each other ; they were strangers, though each 
 seemed to have the prospect of a marriage which was to approximate 
 them. And now we find them in company, but by themselves, with- 
 out male attendance, and wandering over the world. What can have 
 passed, what can be to follow? You, my worthy sir, will doubtless
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 517 
 
 get quit of tlie difficulty, by mournfully exclaiming to yourself : 
 " These, also, are Reuunciants ! " And here you are perfectly right ; 
 but Expectants, too ? This I durst not discover, even if 1 knew it. 
 
 To show you the way how this amiable pair may -be met with on 
 your wandering, I adopt a singular expedient. You herewith receive 
 a little clipping of a map ; when you lay this in its place on the full 
 map of the country, the magnetic needle painted here will point with 
 its barb to the spot whither the desirable are moving. This riddle is 
 not so very hard to read ; but I could wish that, from time to time, 
 you would do the like for us, and send a little snip of chart over 
 hither ; we should then, in some measure, understand to wliat quar- 
 ter our thoughts were to be dii'ected ; and how glad should we be, if 
 the needle were at last attracted by ourselves. May all good be given 
 you, and all errors forgiven ! 
 
 It is said of women, that they cannot send away a letter without 
 tacking postscripts to the end of it. Whatever inferences you may 
 draw from the fact, I cannot deny that this is my second postscript, 
 and the place, after all, where I am to tell you the flower of the whole 
 matter. This arrow shaft, on the little patch of maj), Hilaria herself 
 was at the pains to draw, and to decorate with such dainty plumage : 
 the sharp point, however, was the fair widow's work. Have a care 
 that it do not scratch, or perhaps pierce you. Our bargain is, that 
 whenever you meet, be this where it may, you are forthwith to present 
 the small shred of paper, and so be the sooner and more heartily 
 admitted into trust. 
 
 A WORD FROM THE EDITOR. 
 
 That a certain deficiency, perhaps discernible in the parts, certainly 
 discernible here and therein the whole, cannot henceforth be avoided, 
 we ourselves take courage to forewarn the reader, Avithout fearing 
 thereby to thwart his enjoyment. In the present task, undertaken 
 truly with forethought and good heart, we still meet with all the 
 inconveniences which have delayed the publication of these little 
 volumes for twenty years. This period has altered nothing for the 
 better. We still find ourselves in more than one way impeded ; at 
 this or that place, threatened with one obstruction or another. For 
 we have to solve the uncertain problem of selecting from those most 
 multifarious papers what is worthiest and most important, so that it 
 be grateful to thinking and cultivated minds, and refresh and forward 
 them in many a province of life. Now here are the journals, more 
 or less complete, lying before us ; sometimes communicable without 
 scruple ; sometimes, again, by reason of their unimportant, and like- 
 wise of their too important contents, seemingly unfit for insertion. 
 
 There are not even wanting sections devoted to the actual world ; 
 on statistic, technical and other practical external subjects. To cut 
 these ofF as incongruous, we do not determine without reluctance, as
 
 518 MEISTER'8 TEAVELS. 
 
 life and inclination, knowledge and passion, strangely combining 
 together, go on here in the straitest union. 
 
 Tlien we come on sketches written with clear views, and for glori- 
 ous objects ; but- not so consequent and deep-searching, that we can 
 fully approve of them, or supjjose that, in this new and so far advanced 
 time, they could be readable and influential. 
 
 So likewise we fall in with little anecdotes, destitute of connection, 
 diflBcult to arrange under heads ; some of them, when closely exam- 
 ined, not altogether unobjectionable. Here and there we discover 
 more complete narratives, several of which, though already known to 
 the world, nevertheless demand a place here, and at the same time 
 require exposition and conclusion. Of poems, also, there is no want ; 
 and yet it is not always easy, not always possible, to decide where 
 they should be introduced, with best regard to the preserving and 
 assisting of their true tone, which is but too easily disturbed and over- 
 turned. If we are not, therefore, as we have too often done in bygone 
 years, again to stop in the middle of this business, nothing will remain 
 for us but to impart what we possess, to give out what has been pre- 
 served. Some chapters, accordingly, the completion of which might 
 have been desirable, we now offer in their first hurried form ; that, 
 so the reader may not only feel the existence of a want here, but also 
 be informed what this want is, and complete in his own mind what- 
 ever, partly from the nature of the object, partly from the interven- 
 ing circumstances, cannot be presented to him perfectly completed in 
 itself, or furnished with all its requisite accompaniments. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The proposed riddle raised some scruples in Wilhelm's mind ; yet 
 ere long he began to feel a still attraction in the matter, an impulse 
 of longing to reach tliat appointed line, and follow its direction ; as, 
 indeed, we are wont to seize with eagerness any specific object, that 
 excites our imagination, our active faculties, and to wish that Ave 
 might accomplish it and partake of it. 
 
 A child that, in asking alms of us, puts into our hand a card with 
 five lottery numbers written on it, we do not lightly turn away un- 
 served ; and it depends on the moment, especially if it be shortly 
 before the draAving, whether we shall not, with accidentally stimu- 
 lated hope, quite against our usual custom, stake heavy shares upon 
 these very numbers. 
 
 The wanderer now tried on a large map the little fragment which 
 had been sent him ; and .stood surprised, amazed, affrighted, as he 
 saw the needle pointing straight to Mignon's native place, to the 
 houses where she had lived. What his peculiar feelings were, we
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 519 
 
 do not find declared ; but whoever can bring back to memory the end 
 of the " Apprenticeship," will in his own heart and mind, without 
 difficulty, call forth the like. 
 
 The chief cause, however, why we meet with scantier records of 
 this excursion than we could have wished, may probably be this : 
 that Wilhelm chanced to fall in with a young lively companion of 
 his journey, by means of whom it became easy to retain for himself 
 and his friends a vivid and strong remembrance of this pious pilgrim- 
 age, without any aid of writing. Unexpectedly he finds himself 
 beside a painter ; one of that class of persons whom we often see 
 wandering about the world, and still oftener figuring in romances and 
 dramas ; but in this case.'an individual who showed himself at once 
 to be really a distinguished artist. The two very soon got acquainted ; 
 mutually communicated their desires, projects, purposes. And now 
 it appears that this skillful artist, who deliglits in painting aquatic 
 landscapes, and can decorate his pieces with rich, well-imagined, well- 
 executed additions and accompaniments, lias been passionately at- 
 tracted by Mignon's form, destiny, and being. He has often painted 
 her already, and is now going forth to copy from nature the scenes' 
 where she passed her early years ; amid these to represent the dear 
 child, in happy and unhappy circumstances and moments, and thus 
 to make her image, which lives in all tender hearts, present also to; 
 the sense of the eye. 
 
 The friends soon reach the Lago Maggiore ; Wilhelm endeavors, 
 by degrees, to find out the places indicated. Rural palaces, spacious 
 monasteries, ferries and bays, capes and landings, are visited ; nor 
 are the dwellings of courageous and kind-hearted fishermen for- 
 gotten ; or the cheerfully-built villages along the shore, or the gay 
 mansions on the neighboring heights. All this the artist can seize ; 
 to all of it communicate, by light and coloring,- the feeling suitable 
 for each scene ; so that Wilhelm passes his days and his hours in 
 heart-searching emotion. 
 
 In several of the leaves stood Mignon represented on the foreground 
 as she had looked and lived ; Wilhelm, striving by correct description, 
 to assist the happy imagination of his friend, and reduce these gen- 
 eral conceptions within the stricter limits of individuality. 
 
 And thus you might see the boy-girl, set forth in various attitudes 
 and manifold expression. Beneath the lofty portal of the splendid 
 country house, she is standing, thouglitfully contemplating the mar- 
 ble statues in the hall. Here she rocks herself, plashing to and fro 
 among the waters, in the fastened boat ; there she climbs the mast, 
 and shows herself as a fearless sailor. 
 
 But, distinguished beyond all the other pictures, was one which the 
 arti.st, on his journey hither, and prior to his meeting with Wilhelm, 
 liatl coml)ined and painted with all its characteristic features. In 
 the )ieart of the rude mountains sliines the graceful seeTning-boy,
 
 520 MEISTER'8 TRAVELS. 
 
 encircled witli toppling cliffs, besprayed with cataracts, in tlie middle 
 of a motley horde. Never, perhaps, was a grim, precipitous, prime- 
 val mountain-pass more beautifully or expressively relieved with 
 living figures. The parti-colored, gipsy-looking group, at once rude 
 and fantastic, strange and common, too loose to cause fear, too singu- 
 lar to awaken confidence. Stout beasts of burden are bearing along, 
 now over paths made of trees, now down by steps hewn in the rock, 
 a tawdry chaotic heap of luggage, round which all the instruments of 
 a deafening music hang dangling to and fi'o, to affright the ear from 
 time to time with rude tones. Amid all this, the lovely child, self- 
 collected without defiance, indignant without resistance, led but not 
 dragged. Who would not have looked with pleasure at this singular 
 and impressive picture ? Given in strong characters, frowned the 
 stern obstruction of these rock masses, riven asunder by gloomy 
 chasms, towered up together, threatening to hinder all outgate, had 
 not a bold bridge betokened the possibility of again coming into union 
 with the rest of the world. Nor had the artist, with his quick feel- 
 ing of fictitious truth, forgot to indicate the entrance of a cave, which 
 you might equally regard as the natural laboratory of huge crystals, 
 or as the abode of a fabulously frightful brood of dragons. 
 
 Not without a holy fear did our friends visit the marchese's palace. 
 The old man was still absent on his travels ; but in this circle also, 
 the two wanderers, knowing well how to apply and conduct them- 
 selves both towards spiritual and temporal authorities, were kindly 
 received and entertained. 
 
 The absence of the OAvner also was to Wilhelm very pleasant ; for 
 although he could have wished to see the worthy gentleman, and 
 would have heartily saluted him, he felt afraid of the marchese's 
 thankful generosity, and of any forced recompense of that true loving 
 conduct, for which he had already obtained the fairest reward. 
 
 And thus our friends went floating in gay boats from shore to 
 shore, cruising the lake in every direction. It was the fairest season 
 of the year ; and they missed neither sunrise nor sunset, nor any of 
 the thousand shadings which the heavenly light first bounteously 
 dispenses over its own firmament, and from thence over lake and 
 land ; not appearing itself in its perfect glory, till imaged back from 
 the waters. 
 
 A luxuriant vegetable world, planted by nature, watched over and 
 forwarded by art, on every side surrounded them. The first chestnut 
 forests they had already greeted with welcome ; and now they could 
 not restrain a mournful smile, as, lying under the shade of cypresses, 
 they saw the laurel mounting up ; the pomegranates reddening ; 
 orange and lemon trees unfolding themselves in blossoms, and fruit 
 at the same time glowing fortli from the leafy gloom. 
 
 Through means of his vivid associate, Wilhelm had another enjoy- 
 ment prepared for him. Our old friend had not been favored by 
 nature with the eye of a painter. Susceptible of visual beauty only
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 521 
 
 in the human form, he now felt that, by the presence of a companion, 
 alike disposed, but trained to quite different enjoyments and activities, 
 the surrounding world also was opened to his sight. 
 
 By viewing, under conversational direction the changing glories of 
 the region, and still more by concentrated imitation, his eyes were 
 opened, and his mind freed from all its once obstinate doubts. 
 Hitherto all copies of Italian scenery had seemed to him suspicious ; 
 the sky, he thought, was too blue ; the violet tone of those charm- 
 ing distances was lovely but untrue, and the abundant fresh green too 
 bright and gay ; but now he united in his inmost perceptions with his 
 new friend ; and learned, susceptible as he was, to look at the earth 
 with that friend's eyes ; and while nature unfolded the open secret 
 of her beauty, he could not but feel an irresistible attraction towards 
 art, as towards her most fit exxiositor. 
 
 But his pictorial friend quite unexpectedly anticipated his wishes 
 in another point. The artist had already many times started some gay 
 song ; and thus, in hours of rest, delightfully enlivened and accom- 
 panied their movement, when out in long voyages over the water. 
 But now it happened, that in one of the palaces they were visiting, he 
 found a curious peculiar stringed instrument ; a lute of small size, 
 strong, well-toned, convenient, and portable : he soon contrived to 
 tune it ; and then handled the strings so pleasantly, and so well 
 entertained those about him that, like a new Orpheus, he subdued 
 by soft harmonies tlie usually rigorous and dry castellain, and kindly 
 constrained him to lend the instrument for a time ; under the condition 
 that before departing, the singer should faithfully return it ; and in 
 the interim, should come back some Sunday or holiday, and again 
 gratify them by his music. 
 
 Quite another spirit now enlivened lake and shore ; boat and skiff 
 strove which should be nearest our friends ; even freight and market 
 barges lingered in their neighborhood ; rows of people on the beach 
 followed their course ; when landing, they were encircled by a gay- 
 minded throng ; wben departing, each blessed them, with a heart 
 contented, yet full of longing. 
 
 And now, at last, to any third party who had watched our friends,, 
 it must have been apparent enough that their mission was, in fact, 
 accomplished : all scenes and localities referring to Mignon had been 
 not only sketched, but partly brought into light, shade and color ; 
 partly, in warm, midday hours, finished with the utmost fidelity. 
 In effecting this, they had shifted from place to place in a peculiar 
 way, as Wilhelm's vow frequently impeded them : this, however, 
 they had now and then contrived to evade, by explaining it as valid 
 only on land, and on water not applicable. 
 
 Indeed Wilhelm himself now felt that their special purpose was 
 attained ; yet he could not deny that the wish to see Hilaria and the 
 fair widow must also be satisfied, if he wished to leave this country 
 with a free mind. His friend, to whom he had imparted their story,
 
 523 MEISTER'8 TRAVELS. 
 
 was no less curious ; and already prided liimself in the thought that 
 in one of his paintings there was a vacant space, which, as an artist, 
 he might decorate with the forms of these gentle persons. 
 
 Accordingly, they now cruised to and fro, watching the points 
 where strangers are wont first to enter this paradise. Their hope of 
 meeting friends here had already been made known to the boatmen ; 
 and the search had not lasted long, when there came in sight a 
 splendid barge ; which they instantly made chase of, and forbore not 
 passionately to grapple with, on reaching it. The dames, in some 
 degree alarmed at this movement, soon recovered their composure as 
 Wilhelm produced his little piece of chart, and the two, without 
 hesitation, recognized the arrow which themselves had drawn on it. 
 The friends were kindly invited to come on board the ladies' barge ; 
 which they did without an instant's delay. 
 
 And now let us figure to ourselves these four ; as they sit together 
 in the daintiest apartment, the most blissful world lying round them ; 
 looking in each other's faces ; fanned by soft airs ; rocked on glit- 
 tering waves. Imagine the female pair, as we lately saw them de- 
 scribed ; the male, as they have together for weeks been leading a 
 wayfaring life ; and after a little reflection, we behold them all in the 
 most delightful, but also the most dangerous situation. 
 
 For the three who have before, willingly or unwillingly, ranked 
 themselves in the number of Renunciants, we have not the worst to 
 fear ; the fourth, however, may probably enough too soon see himself 
 admitted into that order, like the others. 
 
 After crossing the lake several times, and pointing out the most 
 interesting spots both on the shore and the islands, our two wan- 
 derers conducted their fair friends to the place they were to pass the 
 night in ; where the dexterous guide, selected for this voyage, had 
 taken care to provide all possible conveniences. Wilhelm's vow was 
 now a harsh but suitable master of the ceremonies ; for he and his 
 companion had already passed three days in this very station, and 
 exhausted all that was remarkable in the environs. The artist, not 
 restrained by any vow, begged permission to attend the dames on 
 shore ; this, however they declined ; and so the party separated at 
 'some distance from the harbor. 
 
 Scarcely had the singer stepped into his skiff, which hastily drew 
 back from the beach, when he seized his lute ; and gracefully began 
 raising that strangely plaintive song, which the Venetian gondoliers 
 send forth in clear melody from land to sea and from sea to land. 
 Expert enough in this feat, which, in the present instance, proceeded 
 with peculiar tenderness and expression, he strengthened his voice 
 in proportion to the increasing distance, so that on the shore you 
 would have thought you heard him still singing in the same place. 
 He at last laid his lute aside, trusting to his voice alone ; and had 
 the satisfaction to observe that the dames, instead of retiring into 
 their house, were pleased to linger on the shore. He felt so inspired
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 523 
 
 that he could not cease ; not even when night and remoteness had 
 withdrawn everything from view ; till at last his calmer friend re- 
 minded him that, if darkness did favor his tones, the skiff had 
 already long passed the limits within which these could take ef- 
 fect. 
 
 According to promise, the two parties again met next day on the 
 open lake. Flying along, they formed acquaintance with the lovely 
 series of prospects, now standing forth in separate distinction, then 
 gathered into rows, and seen behind each other, and at last fading 
 away, as the higher eclipsed the lower ; all which, repeating itself in 
 the waters, affords in such excursions the most varied entertainment. 
 Nor, in the course of these sights, did the copies of them, from our 
 artist's portfolio, fail to awaken thoughts and anticipations of what, 
 in the present hour, was not imparted. For all such matters the still 
 Hilaria seemed to have a free and fair feeling. • 
 
 But towards noon, singularity again came into play : the ladies 
 landed alone; the men cruised* before the harbor. And now the 
 singer endeavored to acconmiodate his music to a shoi-ter distance, 
 where not only the general, soft and quickly-warbling tone of desire, 
 but likewise a certain gay, graceful importunity, might be expected 
 to tell. And here, now and then, some one or other of the songs, for 
 which we stand indebted to our friends in the " Apprenticeshiii," 
 would come hovering over his strings, over his lips ; but out of well- 
 meant regard to the feelings of his hearers, as well as to his own, he 
 restrained himself in this particular ; and roved at large in foreign 
 images and emotions, whereby his performance gained in effect, and 
 reached the ear with so much the more insinuating blandishment. 
 The two friends, blockading the harbor in this way, would not liaA'e 
 recollected the trivial concern of eating and drinking, had not the 
 more provident fair ones sent them over a supply of dainty bits ; to 
 which an accompanying draught of wine had the best possible relish. 
 
 Every separation, every stipulation that comes in the way of our 
 gathering passions, sharpens instead of stifling them ; and in this case, 
 as in others, it may be presumed that the short absence had awakened 
 equal longing in both parties. At all events, the dames, in their gay 
 dazzling gondola, were very soon to be seen coming back. 
 
 This word gondola, however, let us not take up in the melancholy 
 Venetian meaning : here it signifies a cheerful, commodious, social 
 bark ; which, had our little company been twice as large, would still 
 have been spacious enough for them. 
 
 Some days were spent in this peculiar way, between meeting and 
 parting, between separation and social union ; but amid the enjoy- 
 ment of the most delightful intercourse, departure and bereavement 
 still hovered before the agitated soul. In presence of the new friends, 
 the old came back into tlie mind ; were these new ones absent, each 
 could not but admit that already they had taken deep root in his 
 remembrance. None but a composed and tried spirit, like our fair
 
 524 MEISTER'S TBAVEL8. 
 
 widow, could in such moments have maintained herself in complete 
 equilibrium. 
 
 Hilaria's heart had been too deeply wounded to admit of any new 
 entire impression ; but as the grace of a fair scene encircles us of itself 
 with soothing influences ; so when the mildness of tender-hearted 
 friends conspires with it, there comes over sense and soul a peculiar 
 mood of softness, that recalls to us, as in dreaming visions, the past 
 and the absent, and withdraws the present, as if it were but a show, 
 into spiritual remoteness. Thus, alternately rocked this way and 
 that, attracted and repelled, approximated and removed, they wavered 
 and wended for several days. 
 
 Without more narrowly investigating these circumstances, the 
 shrewd, experienced guide imagined he observed some alteration in 
 the calm demeanor of his heroines ; and wlien, at last, the whimsical 
 part of their predicament became known to him, he contrived here 
 also to devise the most grateful expedient. For as our two shipmen 
 were again conducting the ladies te their usual place of dinner, they 
 were met by another gay bark ; which, falling alongside of theirs, 
 exhibited a well-covered table, with all the cheerful invitations of a 
 festive repast ; the friends could now wait in company the lapse of 
 several hours ; and only night decided the customary separation. 
 
 Happily the artist and Wilhelm had in their former voyagings neg 
 lected, out of a certain natural caprice, to visit the most highly 
 ornamented of all the islands, and had even yet never thought of 
 showing to their fair friends the many artificial and somewhat dilapi- 
 dated curiosities of the place, before these glorious scenes of creation 
 were entirely gone throiagh. At last, however, new light rose on 
 their minds. They took counsel with the guide ; he contrived forth- 
 with to expedite their voyage, and all looked on it as the most blissful 
 they had yet undertaken. They could now hope and expect, after so 
 many interrupted joys, to spend three whole heavenly days, assem- 
 bled together in a sequestered abode. 
 
 And here we cannot but bestow on this guide our high commenda- 
 tion ; he belonged to that nimble, active, dexterous class, Avho, in 
 attendance on successive parties, often travel the same roads ; per- 
 fectly acquainted with the conveniences and inconveniences on all of 
 them, they understand how to use the one and evade the other ; and, 
 without leaving their own profit out of sight, still to conduct their 
 patrons more clieaply and pleasantly through the country, than with- 
 out such aid would have been possible. 
 
 At this time, also, a sufficient female train belonging to our dames, 
 for the first time stepped forth in decided activity ; and the fair widow 
 could now make it one of her conditions, that the friends were to 
 remain with lier as guests, and content themselves with what she 
 called her moderate entertainment. In this point, too, all prospered ; 
 for the cunning functionary had, on this occasion, as on others, con- 
 trived to make so good a use of the letters and introductions which
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 525 
 
 liis heroines bad brought with them, that, the owner of the place they 
 were now about to xasit being absent, both castle and garden, kitchen 
 included, were thrown open for the service of the strangers ; nay, 
 some prospect was held out even of the celhir. All things co-operated, 
 so harmoniously, that our wanderers, from tlie very first moment, felti 
 themselves as if at home, as if born lords of this paradise. '- 
 
 The whole luggage of the party was now carried to tlie island, an 
 arrangement producing much convenience to all ; though the chief 
 advantage aimed at was, that the portfolios of our artist, now for the 
 first time all collected together, might afford him means to exhibit, in 
 continuous sequence, to his fair hostesses the route he had followed. 
 This task was undertaken by all parties with delight. Not that tliey 
 proceeded in the common style of amateur and artist, mutually eulo- 
 gizing : here was a gifted man, rewarded by the most sincere and 
 judicious praise. But that we fall not into the suspicion of attempt- 
 ing, with general phrases, to palm on credulous readers what we could 
 not openly show them, let us here insert the judgment of a critic, who 
 some years afterwards viewed with studious admiration both the 
 pieces here in question, and the others of a like or similar sort, by the 
 same hand : 
 
 " He succeeds in representing the cheerful rejwseof lake prospects, 
 where houses in friendly approximation, imaging themselves in the 
 clear wave, seem as if bathing in its depths ; shores encircled with 
 green hills, behind which rise forest mountains, and icy peaks of 
 glaciers. The tone of coloring in such scenes is gay, mirthfully clear ; 
 the distances, as if overflowed with softening vapor, which from 
 watered hollows and river valleys mounts up grayer and mistier, and 
 indicates their windings. No less is the master's art to be praised in 
 views from valleys lying nearer the high Alpine ranges ; where de- 
 clivities slope down, luxuriantly overgrown, and fresh streams roll 
 hastily along by the foot of rocks. 
 
 " With exquisite skill, in the deep shady trees of the foreground,: 
 he gives the distinctive character of the several species ; satisfying us 
 in the form of the whole, as in the structure of the branches, and the 
 details of the leaves ; no less so, in the fresh green with its manifold 
 shadings, where soft airs appear as if fanning us with benignant 
 breath, and the lights as if thereby put in motion. 
 
 "In the middle ground, his lively green tone grows fainter by 
 degrees ; and at last, on the more distant mountain-tops, i)assing into 
 weak violet, weds itself with the blue of the sky. But our artist is, 
 above all, happy in his paintings of high Alpine regions ; in seizing 
 the simple greatness and stillness of their character ; the wide pas- 
 tures on the slopes, clothed with the freshest green, where dark, 
 solitary firs stand forth from the grassy carpet ; and from high cliffs 
 foaming brooks rush down. Whether he relieves his pasturages with 
 grazing cattle, or the narrow, winding, rocky path with mules and 
 laden pack-horses, he paints all with equal truth and richness ; still
 
 526 MEIStER' 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 introduced in the proper place and not in too great copiousness, they 
 decorate and enliven these scenes, without interrupting, without lessen- 
 ing their peaceful solitude. The execution testifies a master's hand ; 
 easy, with a few sure strokes, and yet complete. In his later pieces, 
 he employed glittering English permanent colors on paper : these 
 pictures, accordingly, are of pre-eminently blooming tone ; cheerful, 
 yet, at the same time, strong and sated. 
 
 "His views of deep mountain chasms, where round and round 
 nothing fronts us but dead rock ; where, in the abyss, overspanned 
 by its bold arch, the wild stream rages, are indeed of less attraction 
 than the former ; yet their truth excites us ; we admire the great 
 effect of the whole, produced at so little cost, by a few expressive 
 strokes, and masses of local colors. 
 
 " With no less accuracy of character can he represent the regions 
 of the topmost Alpine ranges, where neither tree nor shrub any more 
 appears ; but only, amid the rocky teeth and snow summits, a few 
 sunny spots clothe themselves with a soft sward. Beautiful, and 
 balmy, and inviting as he colors these spots, he has here wisely for- 
 borne to introduce grazing herds ; for these regions give food only to 
 the chamois, and a perilous employment to the wild-hay men. " 
 
 " We shall not deviate from our purpose of bringing the condition 
 of these waste 'Iscenes as close as possible to the conception of our 
 readers, if to this word, wild-hay man, or wild-heuer, we subjoin a 
 short explanation. It is a name given to the poorer inhabitants of 
 the upland Alpine ranges, who occupy themselves in making hay 
 from such grassy spots as are inaccessible to cattle. For this purpose, 
 they climb, with clamps on their feet, the steepest and most danger- 
 ous cliffs ; or from high crags let themselves down by ropes, when 
 this is necessary ; and so reach these grassy patches. The grass once 
 cut and dried to hay, they throw it down from the heights into the 
 deeper valleys ; where being collected together, it is sold to cattle 
 owners, with whom, on account of its superior quality, it finds a ready 
 market." 
 
 These paintings, which must have gratified and attracted any eye, 
 were viewed by Hilaria, in particular, with great attention ; and from 
 her observations it became clear, that in this department she herself 
 was no stranger. To the artist, least of all, did this continue secret ; 
 nor could approval from any one have been more precious to him, 
 than from this most graceful of all jjersons. Her companion, there- 
 fore, kept silence no longer, but blamed Hilaria for not coming forward 
 with her own accomplishment, but lingering in this case as she always 
 did ; now where the question was not, of being praised or blamed, 
 but of being instructed. A fairer opportunity, she said, might jjfeX 
 easily occur. 
 
 And now it came to light, when she was thus forced to exhibit her
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 527 
 
 portfolios, what a talent was lying hid behind this still and most 
 lovelv nature : the capacity had been derived from birth, and dili- 
 gently cultivated by practice. She possessed a true eye ; a delicate 
 hand, such as women, accustomed to use it in their dressing and 
 decorating operations, find available in higher art. You might, doubt- 
 less, observe unsureness in the strokes ; and, in consequence, a too 
 undecided character in the objects ; but you could not help admiring 
 the most faithful execution ; though the whole was not seized in its 
 happiest effect, not grouped and adjusted with the skill of an artist. 
 She is afraid, you would say, of profaning her object, if she keep not 
 completely true to it ; hence she becomes precise and stiff, and loses 
 herself in details. 
 
 But now, by the great free talent, by the bold hand of the artist, 
 she feels rising, awakening within her, whatever genuine feeling and 
 taste had till now slumbered in her mind ; she perceives that she has 
 bat to take heart, and earnestly and punctually to follow some fun- 
 damental maxims, which the artist, with penetrating judgment and 
 friendly importunity, is repeating and impressing on her. That sure- 
 ness of stroke comes of its own accord ; she by degrees dwells less on 
 the parts than on the whole ; and thus the fairest capability rises on 
 a sudden to fulfillment ; as a rosebud, which in the evening we passed 
 by unobservant, breaks forth in the morning at sunrise ])efore our 
 face ; and the living quivering movement of this lordly blossom, 
 struggling out to the light, seems almost visible before our eyes. 
 
 Nor did this intellectual culture remain without moral effects ; for 
 on a pure spirit it produces a magic impression to be conscious of 
 that heartfelt thankfulness, natural towards any one to whom it 
 stands indebted for decisive instruction. In this case it was the first 
 glad emotion which had risen in Hilaria's soul for many a week. To 
 see this lordly world lying round her day after day, and now at once 
 to feel the instantly acquired, more perfect gift of representing it ! 
 What delight, in figures and tints, to be approaching nearer the un- 
 speakable ! She felt herself surprised as with a new youth ; and 
 could not refuse a peculiar kindliness to the man who had procured for 
 her such happiness. 
 
 Thus did the two sit together ; you could scarcely have determined 
 whether he was readier in communicating secret advantages in art, or 
 she in seizing them and turning them to practice. The happiest 
 rival"''', such as too seldom rises between scholar and master, here 
 took'placp. Many a time you might observe the friend preparing 
 with some decisive stroke to influence her drawing ; which she, on 
 the other hand, would gently decline, hastening to do the wished, the 
 necessary, of her own accord, and always to her master's astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 The fair widow, in the meanwhile, walked along the terraces with 
 \Vilhelm, under cypresses and pines, now under vine, now^ under 
 orange groves ; and at last could not but fulfill the faintly indicated
 
 528 MEISTEB'8 TRAVELS. 
 
 wish of her new friend, and disclose to him the strange entangle- 
 ment by which the two fair pilgrims, cut off from their former ties, 
 and straitly united to one another, had been sent forth to wander over 
 the world. 
 
 Wilhelm, who wanted not the gift of accurately noting what he 
 saw, took down her narrative some time afterwards in writing : this, 
 as he compiled it and transmitted it by Hersilia to Natalia, we pur- 
 pose by and by communicating to our readers. 
 
 The last evening was now come ; and a rising, most clear, full moon 
 concealed the transition from day to night. The party had assembled 
 and seated themselves on one of the highest terraces, to see distinct 
 and unimpeded, and glittering in the sheen of east and west, the 
 peaceful lake, liidden partly in its length, but visible over all its 
 breadth. 
 
 Whatever in such circumstances might be talked of, it was natural 
 once more to repeat the hundred times repeated ; to mention the 
 beauties of the sky, of this water, of this land, under the influences 
 of a strong sun and milder moon, nay, exclusively and lyrically to 
 recognize and describe them. 
 
 But what none of them uttered, what each durst scarcely avow to 
 himself, was the deep mournful feeling which, stronger or weaker, 
 but with equal truth and tenderness, was beating in every bosom. 
 The presentiment of parting diffused itself over present union ; a 
 gradual stagnation was becoming almost painful. 
 
 Then at last the singer roused himself, summoned up his resolu- 
 tion ; with strong tones, preluding on his instrument ; heedless of the 
 former well-meant reserve. Migi'ion's figure, with the first soft song 
 of the gentle child, were hovering before him. Passionately hurried 
 over the limits ; with longing touch awakening the sweetly-sounding 
 strings, he began to raise : 
 
 Know'st thon tlio land where lemon-trees do bloom, 
 Aud oranges like gold — — — — — — 
 
 Hilaria rose in deepest agitation, and hurried away, veiling her face ; 
 our fair widow, with a motion of refusal, waved her hand towards 
 the singer, while she caught Wilhelm's arm with the other. The per- 
 plexed and luilf-unconscious youth followed Hilaria ; Wilhelm, by 
 his more considerate guide, was led after them. And now when they 
 stood all four under the high moonshine, the general emotion g^s no 
 longer to be concealed. The women threw themselves intb each 
 other's arms ; the men embraced each other ; and Luna was witness 
 of the noblest, chastest tears. Some recollection slowly returned ; 
 they forced themselves asunder, silent, under strange feelings and 
 wishes, from which hope was already cut off. And now our artist, 
 whom his friend dragged with him, felt himself here under the void 
 heaven, in the solemn lovely hour of night, initiated in the first stage 
 of renunciation, which those friends had already passed through,
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 529 
 
 though they now saw themselves again in danger of being sharply- 
 tried. 
 
 Not till late had the young men gone to rest ; awakening in the 
 early morning, they took heart ; thought themselves now strong 
 enough for a farewell to this paradise ; devised many plans for still, 
 without violation of duty, at least lingering in the pleasant neighbor- 
 hood. 
 
 While purposing to introduce their projects to this effect, they 
 were cut short by intelligence that, with the earliest break of day, 
 the ladies had departed. A letter from the hand of our Queen of 
 Hearts gave them more precise information. You might have doubted 
 whether sense rather than goodness, love rather than friendship, 
 acknowledgment of merit rather than soft bashful favor, was ex- 
 pressed in it. But alas, in the conclusion stood the hard request, 
 that our two wanderers were neither to follow their heroines, nor 
 anywhere to seelv them ; nay, if they chanced to see each other, they 
 were faithfully to avoid meeting. 
 
 And now the paradise, as if by the touch of an enchanter's rod, 
 was changed for our friends into an utter desert ; and certainly they 
 would have smiled at themselves, had they perceived at this moment 
 how unjust and unthankful they were on a sudden become to so fair 
 and remarkable a scene. No self-seeking hypochondriac could so 
 sharply and spitefully have rated and censured the decay of the 
 buildings, the neglected condition of the walls, the weathered aspect 
 of the towers, the grassy obstruction of the walks, the perishing of 
 the trees, the mossiness and moldering of the artificial grottoes, and 
 whatever else of that sort was to be observed, as our two travelers now 
 did. By degrees, however, they settled themselves as circumstances 
 would admit ; the artist carefully packed up his work ; they both 
 set sail ; Wilhelm accompanying him to the upper quarter of the 
 lake, where, b\' previous agreement, the former set forth on his way 
 to Natalia, to introduce her by his fair landscape papers, into scenes 
 which perhaps she might not soon have an opportunity of viewing 
 with her eyes. He was at the same time commissioned to inform her 
 confessionally of the late incident, which had reduced him to a state 
 such that he might be received with hearty kindness by the confed- 
 erates in the vow of renunciation, and with soft friendly treatment, 
 in the midst of them, be comforted, if he could not be healed.
 
 530 MEISTEB'S THAVELS. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 In this division of our work, the exculpatory word from the editor 
 might have been more requisite than even in the foregoing chapter ; 
 for tliere, though we had not the paintings of the master and his fair 
 scholar, on which all depended, to exhibit before our readers ; and 
 could neither make the perfection of the finished artist, nor the com- 
 mencing stintedness nor rapid development of the art-loving beauty 
 visible to their eyes : yet still the description might not be altogether 
 inefficient, and many genial and thought-exalting matters remained 
 to be imparted. But here, where the business in hand is a great ob- 
 ject, which one could have wished to see treated in the most precise 
 manner, there is, unhappily, too little noted down ; and we cannot 
 hope that a complete view will be attained from our communications. 
 
 Again, it is to be observed, that in the novel, as in universal his- 
 tory, we have to struggle with uncertain computations of time ; and 
 cannot always decisively fix what has happened sooner, and what 
 later. We shall hold, therefore, by the surest points. 
 
 That a year must have passed since Wilhelm left the pedagogic 
 province, is rendered certain, by the circumstance, that we now meet 
 him at the festival to which he had been invited ; but as our wander- 
 ing Renunciants sometimes unexpectedly dive down and vanish from 
 our sight, and then again emerge into view at a place where they 
 were not looked for, it cannot be determined with certainty what 
 track they have followed in the interim. 
 
 Now, however, the traveler advances from the side of the plain 
 country into the pedagogic province : he comes over fields and pas- 
 turages ; skirts, on the dry lea, many a little freshet ; sees bushy 
 rather than woody hills ; a free prospect on all sides, over a surface 
 but little undulated. On such tracks, he did not long doubt that he 
 was in the horse-producing region ; and accordingly he failed not 
 here and there to observe greater or smaller herds of mares and foals. 
 But all at once the horizon darkens with a fierce cloud of dust, which 
 rapidly swelling nearer and nearer, covers all the breadth of the 
 space ; yet at last, rent asunder by a sharp side wind, is forced to dis- 
 close its interior tumult. 
 
 At full gallop rushes forward a vast multitude of these noble ani- 
 mals, guided and held together by mounted keepers. The monstrous 
 hurly-burly whirls past the wanderer ; a fair boy among the keepers 
 looks at him with surprise ; pulls in, leaps down and embraces his 
 father. 
 
 Now commences a questioning and answering ; the boy relates 
 that an agricultural life had not agreed with him ; the harvest-home
 
 CHAPTER XV. 531 
 
 he had indeed found delightful, but the subsequent arrangements, 
 the plowing and digging, by no means so. This the superiors re- 
 mark, and observe at the same time that he likes to employ himself 
 with animals : they direct him to the useful and necessary domestic 
 breeds ; try him as a sequestered herdsman and keeper, and at last 
 promote him to the more lively equestrian occupation ; where accord- 
 ingly he now, himself a young foal, has to watch over foals, and to 
 forward their good nourishment and training, under the oversight of 
 skillful comrades. 
 
 Father and son, following the herd, by various lone-lying spacious 
 farmyards, reached the town or hamlet, near which the great annual 
 market was held. Here rages an incredible confusion, in which it is 
 hard to determine whether merchants or wares raise more dust. 
 From all countries purchasers assemble here to procure animals of 
 noble blood and careful training ; all the languages of the earth, you 
 would fancy, meet your ear. Amid all this hubbub, too, rises the lively 
 sound of powerful wind instruments ; everything bespeaks motion, 
 vigor and life. 
 
 The wanderer meets his overseer of last year, who presents him to 
 the others : he is even introduced to one of the Three ; and by him, 
 though only in passing, paternally and expressively saluted. 
 
 Wilhelm, here again observing an example of exclusive culture and 
 life -leading, expresses a desire to know in what else the pupils are 
 practiced, by way of counterpoise ; that so in this wild, and, to a cer- 
 tain degree, savage occupation of feeding animals, the youth may not 
 himself roughen into an animal. And, in answer, he is gratified to 
 learn, that precisely with this violent and rugged-looking occupation 
 the softest in the world is united, — the learning and practicing of 
 languages. 
 
 " To this," it was said, " we have been induced by the circumstance, ; 
 that there are youths from all quarters of the v/orld assembled here : 
 now to prevent them from uniting, as usually happens when abroad, 
 into national knots, and forming exclusive parties, we endeavor by a 
 fri^e communication of speech to approximate them. 
 
 "Indeed, a general acquaintance with languages is here in some 
 degree rendered necessary ; since, in our yearly market festivals, 
 every foreigner wishes to converse in his own tones and idiom ; and, 
 in the course of cheapening and purchasing, to proceed with all pos- 
 sible convenience. That no Babylonish confusion of tongues, how- 
 ever, no corruption of speech, may arise from this practice; we employ 
 a different language i' nth by month, throughout the year; accord- 
 ing to the maxim, tl; i in learning anything, its first principles alone 
 should be taught by constraint. J 
 
 "We look upon our scholars," said the overseer, "as so many 
 swimmers, who, in the element which threatened to swallow them, 
 feel with astonishment that they are lighter, that it bears and carries 
 them forward : and so it is with everything that man undertakes. /
 
 532 MEI8TER' 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 " However, if any one of our young men sliow a special inclination 
 for this or the other language, we neglect not, in the midst of this 
 tumultuous-looking life, which nevertheless offers very many quiet, 
 idly solitary, nay, tedious hours, to provide for his true and substan- 
 tial instruction. Our riding grammarians, among whom there are 
 even some pedagogues, you would be surprised to discover among 
 these bearded and beardless Centaurs. Your Felix has turned him- 
 self to Italian ; and in the monotonous solitude of his herdsman 
 life, you shall hear him send forth many a dainty song with proper 
 feeling and taste./ Practical activity and expertness are far more 
 I compatible with sufficient intellectual culture than is generally sup- 
 V posed." . -- ' 
 
 Each of these districts was celebrating its peculiar festival ; so the 
 guest was now conducted to the instrumental music department. 
 This tract, skirted by the level country, began from its very border 
 to exhibit kind and beautifully-changing valleys, little trim woods ; 
 soft brooks, by the side of which, among the sward, here and there, 
 a mossy crag modestly stood fortli. Scattered, bush-encircled dwell- 
 ings you might see on the hillsides ; in soft hollows, the houses 
 clustered nearer together. Those gracefully separated cottages lay 
 so far apart, that neither tones nor mistones could be heard from one 
 to tlie other. 
 
 They now apprc ached a wide space, begirt with buildings and 
 shady trees, where crowded, man on man, all seemed on the stretch 
 of expectation and attention. Just as the stranger entered, there was 
 sent forth from all the instruments a grand symphony, the full rich 
 power and tenderness of which he could not bat admire. Opposite 
 the spacious main orchestra was a smaller one, which failed not to 
 attract his notice : here stood various younger and elder scholars ; 
 each held his in.strument in readiness without playing ; these were 
 they who as yet could not, or durst not, join in with the whole. It 
 was interesting to observe how they stood as it Avere on the start ; i 
 and our friend was informed that such a festival seldom passed over, 
 ' without some one or other of them suddenly developing his talent. 
 
 As among the instrumental music, singing was now introduced, uo 
 doubt could remain that this also was favored. To the question, 
 what other sort of culture was liere blended in kind union with the 
 chief employment, our wanderer learned in reply, that it was poetry, 
 and of the lyrical kind. In this matter, it appeared, their main con- 
 cern was, that both arts should be developed each for itself, and from 
 itself, but then also in contrast and combination with each other. The 
 scholars were first instructed in each according to its own limitations ; 
 then taught how the two reciprocally limit, and again reciprocally 
 _fxee each other. 
 
 1 To poetical rhythm the musical artist opposes measure of tone 
 
 • and movement of tone. But here the mastery of music over poesy 
 
 soon shows itself ; for if the latter, as is fit and necessary, keep her
 
 CHAPTER XV. 633 
 
 quantities never so steadily in view, still for the musician few sylla- 
 bles are decidedly short or long ; at his pleasure he can overset the 
 most couscieniious procedure of the rhythnier, nay, change prose 
 itself into song ; froua which, in truth, the riclicst possibilities pre- 
 sent themselves ; and the poet would soon feel liiniself annihilated, 
 if he could not, on his own side, by lyrical tenderness and boldness, 
 inspire the musician with reverence ; and, now in the softest 
 sequence, now by the most abrupt transitions, awaken new feelings 
 in the mind.^ 
 
 The singers to be met with here are mostly poets themselves. 
 Dancing also is taught in its fundamental principles ; that so all these 
 accomplishments may regularly spread themselves into every district. 
 
 The guest, on being led across the next boundary, at once per- 
 ceived an altogether different mode of building. The houses were 
 no longer scattered into separation, no longer in the shape of cot- 
 tages : they stood regularly united, beautiful in their exterior, spa- 
 cious, convenient and elegant within ; you here saw an unconfined, 
 well-built, stately town, corresponding to the scene it stood in. Here 
 the plastic arts, and the trades akin to them, have their home ; and 
 a peculiar silence reigns over these spaces. 
 
 The plastic artist, it is true, must still figure himself as standing 
 in relation to all that lives and moves among men ; but his occupa- 
 tion is solitary ; and yet, by the strangest contradiction, there is per- 
 haps no other that so decidedly requires a living accompaniment and 
 society. Now here, in that circle, is each in silence forming shapes 
 tliat are forever to engage the eyes of men ; a holiday stillness reigns 
 over the whole scene ; and did you not here and there catch the 
 picking of stone-hewers, and the measured stroke of carpenters, who 
 are now busily employed in finishing a lordly edifice, the air were 
 unmoved by any sound. 
 
 Our wanderer was struck, moreover, by the earnestness, the sin- 
 gular rigor by which beginners, as well as more advanced pupils, 
 were treated ; it seemed as if no one by his own power and judgment ac- 
 complished anything, but as if a secret spirit, striving towards one sin- 
 gle great aim, pervaded and vivified them all. Nowhere did you observe 
 a scheme or sketch ; every stroke was drawn with forethought. As 
 the wanderer inquired of his guide the reason of this peculiar proce- 
 dure, he was told : that imagination was in itself a vague, unstable 
 power, which the whole merit of the plastic artist consisted in more 
 and more determining, fixing, nay, at last exalting to visible presence. 
 
 The necessity for sure principles in other ai'ts was mentioned. 
 "Would the musician," it was said, "permit his scholar to dash 
 wildly over the strings, nay, to invent bars and intervals for himself 
 at his own good pleasure? Here it is palpable that i nothing can be 
 left to the caprice of the learner ; the element he is to work in is irre- 
 vocably given ; the implement he is to wield is put into his hands ; 
 nay, the very way and manner of his iising it, I mean the changing
 
 534 MEI8TER' a TRAVELS. 
 
 of the fingers, he finds prescribed to him ; so ordered that the one 
 part of his hand shall give place to the other, and each prepare the 
 proper path for its follower : by such determined co-operation only 
 can the impossible at hist become possible. 
 
 " But what chiefly vindicates the practice of strict requisitions, of 
 decided laws, is that genius, that native talent, is precisely the readi- 
 est to seize them, and yield them willing obedience. It is only the 
 half-gifted that would wish to put his own contracted singularity in 
 the place of the unconditional whole, and justify his false attempts 
 under cover of an uncoustrainable originality and independence. To 
 this we grant no currency : we guard our scholars from all such mis- 
 conceptions, whereby a large portion of life, nay, often the whole of 
 life, is apt to be perplexed and disjointed. 
 
 " With genius we love most to be concerned ; for this is animated 
 just by that good spirit of quickly recognizing what is profitable for 
 it. Genius understands that art is called art because it is not nature. 
 Genius bends itself to respect even towards what may be named con- 
 ventional ; for what is this but agreeing, as the most distinguished 
 men have agreed, to regard the unalterable, the indispensable as the 
 best ? And does not such submission always turn to good account ? | 
 
 " Here too, as in all our departments, to the great assistance of tlie 
 teachers, our three reverences and their signs, with some changes 
 suitable to the nature of the main employment, have been introduced 
 and inculcated." 
 
 The wanderer, in his farther survey, was surprised to observe that 
 the town seemed still extending ; street unfolding itself from street, 
 and so offering the most varied prospects. The exterior of the edifices 
 corresponded to their destination : they were dignified and stately, 
 not so much magnificent as beautiful. To the nobler and more earnest 
 buildings in the center of the town, the more cheerful were harmoni- 
 ously appended ; till farther out, gay decorated suburbs, in graceful 
 style, stretched forth into the country, and at last separated into gar- 
 den-houses. 
 
 The stranger could not fail to remark, that the dwellings of the 
 musicians in the preceding district were by no means to be compared, 
 in beauty or size, with the present, which painters, sculptors and 
 architects inhabited. He was told that this arose from the nature 
 of the thing. The musician, ever shrouded in himself, must culti- 
 vate the inmost being, that so he may turn it outwards. The sense 
 of the eye he may not flatter. The eye easily corrupts the judgment 
 of the ear, and allures the spirit from the inward to the outward. In- 
 versely, again, the plastic artist has to live in the external world ; and 
 to manifest his inward being, as it were, unconsciously, in and upon 
 what is outward. Plastic artists should dwell like kings and gods : 
 how else are they to build and decorate for kings and gods? They 
 must at last so raise themselves above the common, that the whple 
 mass of a people may feel itself ennobled in and by their works.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 535 
 
 Our friend then begged an explanation of another paradox : Why 
 at this time, so festive, so enlivening, so tumultuously excited, in the 
 other regions, the greatest stillness prevailed here, and all labors 
 were continued ? 
 
 " A plastic artist," it was answered, " needs no festival. When he 
 has accomplished something excellent, it stands, as it has long done 
 before his own eye, now at last before the eye of the world : in his 
 task he needed no repetition, no new effort, no fresh success ; whereas 
 the musician constantly afflicts himself with all this ; and to him, 
 therefore, the most splendid festival, in the most numerous aMem- 
 blage, should not be refused." 
 
 " Yet at such a season," replied Wilhelm, " something like an ex- 
 hibition might be desirable ; in which it would be pleasant to inspect 
 and judge the triennial progress of your best pupils." 
 
 " In other places," it was answered, " an exhibition may be neces- 
 sary ; with us it is not. Our whole being and nature is exhibition. 
 Look round you at these buildings of every sort ; all erected by our 
 pupils ; and this not without plans a hundred times talked of and 
 meditated ; for the builder must not grope and experiment ; what is 
 to continue standing, must stand rightly, and satisfy, if not forever, 
 yet at least for a long space of time. If we cannot help committing 
 errors, we must build none. 
 
 " With sculptors we proceed more laxly, most so of all with paint- 
 ers ; to both we give liberty to try this and that, each in his own way. 
 It stands in their power to select in the interior or exterior compart- 
 ments of edifices in public places, some space which lliey may incline 
 to decorate. They give forth their ideas, and if these are in some 
 degree to be approved of, the completion of them is permitted, and 
 this in two ways ; either witii liberty, sooner or later, to remove the 
 work, should it come to displease the artist ; or, with the condition 
 that what is once set up shall remain unalterable in its place. Most 
 part choose the first of these offers, retaining in their own hands this 
 power of removal ; and in the performance, they constantly avail 
 themselves of the best advice. The second case occurs seldomer ; 
 and we then observe that the artist trusts less to himself, holds long 
 conferences with companions and critics, and by this means produces 
 works really estimable, and deserving to endure." 
 
 After all this, our traveler neglected not to ask : What other species 
 of instruction was combined with the main one here? and received 
 for answer, that it was poetry, and of the epic sort. 
 
 This to our friend must have seemed a little singular, when he 
 heard fartlier that the pupils were not allowed to read or hear any 
 finished poems by ancient or modern poets. " We merely impart to 
 them," it was said, " a series of myths, traditions and legends, in the 
 most laconic form. And now, from the pictorial or poetic execution 
 of these subjects, we at once discover the peculiar productive gift of 
 the genius devoted to the one or the other art. Both poet and painter
 
 536 MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 tlius labor at the same fountain ; and each endeavors to draw off the 
 water to his own side, to his own advantage, and attain his own 
 required objects with it ; in which he succeeds much better than if 
 he attempted again to fashion something that has been fashioned 
 already." 
 
 The traveler himself had an opportunity of seeing how this was 
 accomplished ; several painters were busy in a room ; a gay young 
 friend was relating with great minuteness a very simple story ; so 
 that he employed almost as many words as the others did pencil- 
 strokes, to complete the same exhibition and round it fully ofE. 
 
 He was told, that in working together the friends were wont to 
 carry on much pleasant conversation ; and that in this way several 
 improvisatori had unfolded their gifts, and succeeded in exciting great 
 enthusiasm for this twofold mode of representation. 
 
 Our friend now reverted his inquiries to the subject of plastic art. 
 " You have no exhibition," said he ; " and therefore I suppose give 
 no prize either?" 
 
 "No," said the other, "we do not; but here, close by, we can 
 show you something which we reckon more useful." 
 
 They entered a large hall, beautifully lighted from above ; a wide 
 circle of busy artists first attracted the eye ; and from the midst of 
 these* rose a colossal group of figures, elevated in the center of the 
 place. Male and female forms of gigantic power, in violent postures, 
 reminded one of that lordly fight between heroic youths and Ama- 
 zons, wherein hate and enmity at last issue in mutually regretful 
 alliance. This strikingly intertwisted piece of art presented an 
 equally favorable aspect from every point of its circuit. In a wide 
 ring round it were many artists sitting and standing, each occupied 
 in his own way ; the painter at his easel, the drawer at his sketch-board ; 
 some were modeling it in full, others in bas-relief ; there were even 
 architects engaged in planning the pedestal, on which a similar group, 
 when wrought in marble, was to be erected. Each individual was 
 proceeding by his own method in this task ; painters and drawers were 
 bringing out the group to a plain surface ; careful, however, not to 
 destroy its figures, but to retain as much of it as possible. In the 
 same manner were works in bas-relief going forward. One man only 
 had repeated the whole group in a miniature scale ; and in certain 
 movements and arrangements of limbs he really seemed to have sur- 
 passed his model. 
 
 And now it came out that this man was the maker of the model ; 
 who, before working it in marble, had here submitted his perform- 
 ance not to a critical, but to a practical .trial ; and by accurately ob- 
 serving whatever any of his fellow-artists in his special department 
 and way of thought might notice, retain or alter in the group, was 
 purposing, in subsequent consideration, to turn all this to his own 
 profit ; so that, when at length the grand work stood finished in mar- 
 ble, though undertaken, planned and executed by one, it might seem 
 to belong to all.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 537 
 
 The greatest silence reigned throughout this apartment also ; but 
 the superior raised his voice, and cried : " Is there any of you, then, 
 who in presence of this stationary work can, with gifted words, so 
 awaken our imagination, that all we here see concreted shall again 
 become fluid, without losing its character ; and so convince us, that 
 what our artist has here laid hold of, was indeed the wortliiest V " 
 
 Called forth on all sides by name, a fair youth laid down his work ; 
 and as he stepped forward, began a quiet speech, seemingly intended 
 merely to describe the present group of figures ; but ere long he cast 
 himself into the region of poetry, plunged into the middle of the 
 action, and ruled this element like a master ; by degrees, his repre- 
 sentation so swelled and mounted by lordly words and gestures, that 
 the rigid group seemed actually to move about its axis, and the num- 
 ber of its figures to be doubled and trebled. Wilhelm stood enrapt- 
 ured, and at last exclaimed : " Can we now forbear passing over into 
 song itself, into rhythmic melody ? " 
 
 " This I should wish to hinder," said the overseer ; " for if our 
 excellent sculptor will be candid, he will confess to us that our poet 
 scarcely pleases him ; and this because their arts lie in the most op- 
 posite regions ; on the other hand, 1 durst bet, that here and there a 
 painter has not failed to ap])ropriate some living touches from the 
 speech. A soft kindly song, however, I could wish our dear friend to 
 hear ; there is one, for instance, which you sing to an air so lovely 
 and earnest ; it turns on art in general, and I myself never listen to it 
 without pleasure." 
 
 After a pause, in which they beckoned to each other, and settled 
 their arrangements by signs, the following heart and spirit-stirring 
 song resounded in stately melody from ail sides : 
 
 While inventing and effecting, 
 
 Artist, by tiiyself continue long : 
 The result art thou expecting, 
 
 Haste and see it in the throng. 
 Here in others look, discover 
 
 What thy own life's course has been ; 
 And thy deeds of years past over 
 
 In thy fellow-man be seen. 
 The devising, the uniting, 
 
 What and how the forms shall be ; 
 One thing will the otlier lighten. 
 
 And at last comes joy to thee ! 
 Wise and true what thou impartest, 
 
 Fairly shaped, and softly done : 
 Thus of old the cunning artist 
 ^ Artist-like his glory won. 
 / As all nature's thousand changes 
 
 But one changeless God proclaim ; 
 So in art's wide kingdom ranges 
 
 One sole meaning still the same : 
 This is truth, eternal reason, 
 
 Which from beauty takes its dress, 
 And serene through time and season 
 
 Stands for aye in loveliness. |
 
 538 MEISTEB'B TRAVELS. 
 
 While the orator, the singet, 
 
 Pour their hearts in rhyme and prose; 
 
 'Neath the painter's busj' finger 
 
 Shall bloom forth life's cheerful rose | 
 
 Girt with sisters ; in the middle, 
 
 And with autumn's fruitage blent ; 
 
 That of life's mysterious riddle 
 Some short glimpses may be hent. 
 
 Thousandfold, and graceful, show thou * 
 
 Form from forms evolving fair ; 
 And of man's bright image know thou 
 
 That a God once tarried there : 
 And whate'er your tasks or prizes, 
 
 Stand as brethren one and all. 
 While, like song, sweet incense rises 
 
 From the attar at your call. 
 
 All this Wilhelm could not but let pass, though it must have seemed 
 paradoxical enough ; and had lie not seen it with his eyes, might even 
 have appeared impossible. But now, when it was explained and 
 pointed out to him, openly and freely, and in fair sequence, he scarcely 
 needed to put any farther question on the subject. However, he at 
 last addressed his conductor as follows : " I see here a most prudent 
 provision made for much that is desirable in life ; but tell me farther, 
 which of your regions exhibits a similar attention to dramatic poetry, 
 and where could I instruct myself in that matter ? I have looked 
 round over all your edifices, and observed none that seemed destined 
 for such an object." 
 
 " In reply to this question, we must not hide from you that, in our 
 whole province, there is no such edifice to be seen. The drama pre- 
 supposes the existence of an idle multitude, perhaps even of a popu- 
 lace ; and no such class finds harbor with us ; for birds of that feather, 
 when they do not in spleen forsake us of their own accord, we soon 
 take care to conduct over the marches. Doubt not, however, that in 
 our institution, so universal in its character, this point was carefully 
 meditated ; but no region could be found for the purpose, everywhere 
 some important scruple came in the way. Indeed, who among our 
 pupils could readily determine, with pretended mirth, or hypocriti- 
 cal sorrow, to excite in the rest a feeling untrue in itself, and alien to 
 the moment, for the sake of calling forth an always dubious satisfac- 
 tion? Such juggleries we reckoned in all cases dangerous, and could 
 not reconcile with our earnest objects." 
 
 " It is said, however," answered Wilhelm, "that this far-stretching 
 art promotes all the rest, of whatever sort. " 
 
 " Nowise," answered the other ; "it employs the rest, but spoils 
 them. I do not blame a player for uniting himself with a painter ; 
 but the painter, in such society, is lost. Without any conscience, the 
 player will lay hold of whatever art or life presents him, and use it 
 for its fugitive objects, indeed with no small profit ; the painter, 
 again, who could wish in return to extract advantage from the thea- 
 ter, will constantly find himself a loser by it ; and so also in the like
 
 CHAPTER XV. 539 
 
 case will the musician. The combined arts appear to me like a family 
 of sisters, of whom the greater part were inclined to good economy, 
 but one was light-headed, and desirous to appropriate and squander 
 the whole goods and chattels of the household. The theater is this 
 wasteful sister ; it has an ambiguous origin, which, in no case,' 
 whether as art or trade or amusement, it can wliolly conceal." ^ 
 
 Wilhelra cast his eyes on the ground with a deep sigh ; for all that 
 he had enjoyed or suffered on the stage rose at once before his mind ; 
 and he blessed the good men who were wise enough to spare their 
 pupils such pain, and, out of principle and conviction, to banish such 
 errors from their sphere. 
 
 His attendant, however, did not leave him long in these medita- 
 tions, but continued : " As it is our highest and holiest principle, that 
 no talent, no capacity be misdirected, we cannot hide from ourselves, 
 that among so large a number, here and there a mimical gift will some- 
 times decidedly come to light ; exhibiting itself in an irresistible desire 
 to ape the characters, forms, movements, speech of others. This we 
 certainly do not encourage ; but we observe our pupil strictly, and if 
 he continue faithful to his nature, then we have already established 
 an intercourse with the great theaters of all nations, and so thither we 
 send any youth of tried capability, that, as the duck on the pond, so 
 he on the boards, may be forthwith conducted, full speed, to the future 
 quack-quacking and" gibble-gabbling of his life." 
 
 Wilhelm heard this with patience, but only with half-conviction, 
 perhaps with some spleen ; for so strangely is man tempered, that he 
 may be persuaded of the worthlessness of any darling object, may 
 turn away from it, nay, even execrate it ; but yet will not see it treated 
 in this way by others ; and perhaps the spirit of contradiction which 
 dwells in all men, never rouses itself more vehemently and stoutly 
 than in such cases. 
 
 And the editor of these sheets may himself confess, that he lets 
 not this strange passage through his hands without some touch 
 of anger. Has not he too, in many senses, expended more life and 
 faculty than was right on the theater? And would these men con- 
 vince him that this has been an unpardonable error, a fruitless 
 toil? 
 
 But we have no time for appending, in splenetic mood, such re- 
 membrances and after-feelings to the narrative ; for our friend now 
 finds himself agreeably surprised, as one of the Three, and this a par- 
 ticularly prepossessing one, again comes before his eyes. Kind, open 
 meekness, announcing the purest peace of soul, came in its refresh- 
 ing effluences along with him. Trustfully the wanderer could ap- 
 proach, and feel his trust returned. 
 
 Here he now learned that the chief was at present in the sanctuary, 
 instructing, teaching, blessing ; while the Three had separated to visit 
 all the regions, and everywhere, after most thorough information ob- 
 tained, and conferences with the subordinate overseers, to forward
 
 540 MEI8TER' 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 what was in progress, to found what v/as newly planned, and thereby 
 faithfully discharge their high duty. 
 
 This same excellent person now gave him a more comprehensive 
 view of their internal situation and external connections ; explained 
 to him the mutual influences of one region on another : and also by 
 what steps, after a longer or a shorter date, a pupil could be trans- 
 ferred from the one to the other. All this harmonized completely 
 with what he already knew. At the same time, he was much grati- 
 fied by the description given of his son ; and their farther plan of 
 education, met with his entire approval. 
 
 He was now, by the assistants and overseer, invited to a miners' 
 festival, which was forthwith to be celebrated. The ascent of the 
 mountains was difficult ; and Wilhelm fancied he observed that his 
 guide walked even slower towards evening, as if the darkness had 
 not been likely to obstruct their path still more. But when deep 
 night came round them, this enigma was solved : our wanderer ob- 
 served little flames come glimmering and wavering forth from many 
 dells and chasms ; gradually stretch themselves into lines, and roll 
 over the summits of the mountains. Much kindlier than when a 
 volcano opens, and its l)elching roar threatens whole countries Avith 
 destruction, did this fair light appear ; and yet, by degrees, it glowed 
 with new brightness ; grew stronger, broader, more continuous ; 
 glittered like a stream of stars, soft and lovely indeed, yet spreading 
 boldly over all the scene. 
 
 After the attendant had a little while enjoyed the surprise of his 
 guest, for they could clearly enough observe each other, their faces 
 and forms as well as their path being illuminated by the light from 
 the distance, — he began: "You see here, in truth, a curious spec- 
 tacle : these lights which, day and night, the whole year over; gleam 
 and work under ground, forwarding the acquisition of concealed and 
 scarcely attainable treasures ; these now mount and well forth from 
 their abysses, and gladden the upper night. Scarcely could one any- 
 where enjoy so brave a review as here, where this most useful occu- 
 pation, which in its subterranean concealment is dispersed and hidden 
 from the eye, rises before us in its full completeness, and bespeaks a 
 great secret combination." 
 
 Amid such speeches and thoughts, they had reached the spot where 
 these fire-brooks poured themselves into a sea of flame, surrounding 
 a well-lighted insular space. The wanderer placed himself in the 
 dazzling circle, within which, glittering lights by thousands formed 
 an imposing contrast with the miners, ranked round it like a dark 
 wall. Forthwith arose the gayest music, accompanied by becoming 
 songs. Hollow masses of rock came forward on machinery, and 
 opened a resplendent interior to the eye of the delighted spectator. 
 Mimetic exhibitions, and whatever else at such a moment can gratify 
 the multitude, combined with all this at once to excite and to satisfy 
 {I cheerful attention.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 541 
 
 But witli what astonisliment was Wilhelm filled, when, on being 
 introduced to tlie superiors, lie observed friend Jarno, in solemn 
 stately robes, among tlie number ! Not in vain," cried Jarno. 
 " have I changed my former name with tlie more expressive title of 
 Moiitan ; thou findest me here initiated in mountain and cave ; and 
 now, if questioned, I could disclose and exi)lain to thee much that a 
 year ago was still a riddle to myself." 
 
 At this point our manuscripts forsake us : of the conversation of 
 these friends there is nothing specified ; as little can we discover the 
 connection of what follows next ; an incident of which in the same 
 bundle, in the same paper, Ave find brief notice : That a meeting had 
 taken place between our wanderer and Lothario and the abbe. Un- 
 happily, in this, as in so many other leaves, the date has been neglected. 
 Some passages, introduced rather in the way of exclamation than of 
 narrative, point to the high meaning of renunciation, by which alone 
 the first real entrance into life is conceivable. Then we come upon a 
 map, marked with several arrows, pointing towards one another ; and 
 along with this we find, in a certain sequence, several days of the 
 month wi-itten down ; so that we might fancy ourselves again walk- 
 ing in the real world, and moderately certain as to the next part of 
 our friend's route, were it not that here also various marks and ciphers, 
 appended in different ways, awoke some fear that a secret meaning at 
 the bottom of it would forever lie hid from us. 
 
 But what drives us out of all historical composure, is the strange 
 circumstance, that immediately on all this there comes in the most im- 
 probable narration ; of a sort like those tales, whereby you long keep 
 the hearer's curiosity on the stretch with a series of wonders, and at 
 last explain : That you were talking of a dream. However, we shall 
 communicate witliout change what lies before us : 
 
 " If hitherto we had continued in the metalliferous part of the moun- 
 tains, which externally is soft and by no means of a wild aspect, I was 
 now conducted through percipitous and scarcely passable rocks and 
 chasms ; at last I gained the topmost summit ; a cliff, the peak of 
 which afforded room only for a single person ; who if he looked down 
 from it into the horrid depth, might see furious mountain-torrents 
 foaming through black abysses. In the present case, I looked down 
 without giddiness or terror, for I was light of heart ; but now my at- 
 tention fixed itself on some huge crags rising opposite me, precipitous 
 like my own, yet offering on their summits a larger space of level. 
 Though parted by a monstrous chasm, the jutting masses came so near 
 together that I could distinctly enough, with the naked eye, observe 
 several persons assembled on the summit. They were for most part 
 ladies ; one of whom coming forward to the very verge, awakened in 
 me double and treble anxiety, as I became completely convinced that 
 it was Natalia herself. The danger of such an unexpected interview
 
 543 rEmrER' 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 increased every momeut ; but it grew boundless, when a perspective 
 came before my eyes, and brought ine over to her, and her over to 
 me There is something magical at all times in perspective. Were 
 we not accustomed from youth to look through them, we should 
 shudder and tremble every time we put them to our eyes. It is we 
 who are looking, and it is not we ; a being it is whose organs are 
 raised to a higher pitch, whose limitations are done away, who has 
 become entitled to stretch forth into infinitude. 
 
 " When, for example, we observe far-distant persons, by means of 
 such an instrument, and see them in unsuspicious thoughtlessness 
 following their business as if they were solitary and unwatched, we 
 could almost feel afraid lest they might discover us, and indignantly 
 upbraid us for our treacherous curiosity. 
 
 " And so likewise did I, hemmed in by a strange feeling, waver 
 between proximity and distance, and from instant to instant alternate 
 between the two. * 
 
 " Those others in their turn had observed us ; as a signal with a 
 white handkerchief put beyond a doubt. For a moment I delayed 
 in my answer to it ; finding myself thus close beside the being whom I 
 adored. Thisisher pure benign form ; these are her taper arms, which 
 once so helpfully appeared before me, after unblessed sorrows and 
 perplexities ; and at last too, though but for moments, sympathizingly 
 embraced me. 
 
 " I saw distinctly enough that she too had a perspective, and was 
 looking over to me ; and I failed not, by such tokens as stood at my 
 command, to express the profession of a true and heartfelt attach- 
 ment. 
 
 " And as experience teaches that remote objects, which we have 
 once clearly recognized through •&, perspective, afterwards appear 
 even to the naked eye as if standing shaped in distinct nearness ; be 
 it that more accurate knowledge sharpens the sense, or that imagina- 
 tion supplies what is wanting ; so now did I see this beloved being 
 as accurately and distinctly as if I could have touched her ; though 
 her company continued still irrecognizable And as I was trampling 
 round my narrow station, struggling towards her the more, the abyss 
 was like to swallow me, had not a helpful hand laid hold of mine, 
 and snatched me at once from my danger and my fairest happiness."
 
 CHAPTER XVI 643 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Here at last we again step on firmer ground, the localities of which 
 ■we can settle with some probability ; though still here and there on 
 our way there occur a few uncertainties, vviiicii it is not in our power 
 altogether to clear up. 
 
 As Wilhelm, in order to reach any point of the line marked out by 
 tlie first arrow, had to proceed obliquely through the country, he 
 found himself necessitated to perform the journey on foot, leaving 
 his luggage to be carried after him. For this walk of his, however, 
 he was riclily rewarded : meeting at every step, quite unexpectedly, 
 with loveliest tracts of scenery. They were of that sort, which the 
 last slope of mountain i\?gion forms in its meeting Avith the plain 
 country ; bushy hills, their soft declivities employed in domestic use ; 
 all level spaces green ; nowhere aught steep, unfruitful or unplowed 
 to be noticed. Ere long he reached the main valley, into which the 
 side-waters flowed ; and this too was carefully cultivated, graceful 
 when you looked over it ; with taper trees marking the bends of the 
 river, and of the brooks which poured into it. On looking at his 
 map, his indicator, he observed with surprise that the line drawn for 
 him cut directly through this valley ; so that, in the first place, he 
 was at least on the right road. 
 
 An old castle, in good repair, and seemingly built at different peri- 
 ods, stood forth on a bushy hill ; at the foot of which a gay hamlet 
 stretched along, with its large inn rising prominent among the other 
 houses. Hither he proceeded ; and was received by the landlord 
 kindly enough, yet with an excuse that he could not be admitted, 
 unless by the permission of a party who had hired the whole estab- 
 lishment for a time ; on which account, he, the landlord, was under the 
 necessity of sending all his guests to the older inn, which lay farther 
 up the hamlet. After a short conference, the man seemed to bethink 
 himself, and said : ' ' Indeed there is no one of them at home even 
 now ; but this is Saturday, and the bailiff will not fail to be here 
 soon : he comes every week to settle the accounts of the last, and 
 make arrangements for the next. Truly, there is a fair order reigns 
 among these men, and a pleasure in having to do with them, though 
 they are strict enough ; for if they yield one no great profit, it is sure 
 and constant." He then desired his new guest to amuse himself in 
 the large upper hall, and await what farther might occur. 
 
 Here Wilhelm, on entering, found a large clean apartment ; except 
 for benches and tables, altogether empty. So much the more was he 
 surprised to see a large tablet inserted above one of the doors, with' 
 these words marked on it in golden letters, " Ubi homines sunt modi 
 sunt " ; which in modern tongue may signify, that where men com-:
 
 544 MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 bine in society, the way and manner in which they like to be and to 
 continue together is directly established. This motto made our wan- 
 derer think ; he took it as a good omen ; finding here, expressed and 
 confirmed, a principle which he had often, in the course of life, per- 
 ceived for himself to be furthersome and reasonable. He had not 
 waited long, when the bailiff made his appearance ; who being fore- 
 warned by the landlord, after a short conversation, and no special 
 scrutiny, admitted Wilhelni on the following terms : To continue 
 three days ; to participate quietly in whatever should occur ; and 
 happen what might, to ask no questions about the reason, and at tak- 
 ing leave, to ask none about the score. All this our traveler was 
 obliged to comjjly with, the deputy not being allowed to yield in a 
 single point. 
 
 The bailiff was about retiring, when a sound of vocal music rolled 
 up the stairs : two pretty young men entered singing ; and these the 
 bailiff, by a simple sign, gave to understand that their guest was 
 accepted. Without interrupting their song, they kindly saluted the 
 stranger, and continued their duet with the finest grace ; showing 
 clearly enough that they were well trained, and complete masters of 
 their art. As Wilhelni testified the most attentive interest, they 
 paused and inquired : If in his own pedestrian wanderings no song ever 
 occurred to him, which he went along singing to himself? " A good 
 voice," answered Wilhelm, "nature has in truth denied me ; yet I 
 often feel as if a secret genius were whispering some rhythmic words 
 in iny ear ; so that in walking, I move to musical measure : fancying 
 at the same time that I hear low tones, accompanying some song, 
 which, in one way or another, has pleasantly risen before me. " 
 
 " If you recollect such a song, write it down for us," said they : 
 " we shall see if we have skill to accompany your singing dsnion." 
 He took a leaf from his note-book, and handed them the following- 
 lines : 
 
 From the mountains to the champaign, 
 
 By the glens; and hills along. 
 Comes a rustling and a tramping, 
 
 Comes a motion as of song : 
 And this undetermined roving 
 
 Brings delight, and brings pood heed ; 
 And thy striving, be't with ioving, 
 
 And thy living, be't iu deed 1 
 
 After brief study, there arose at once a gay marching melody, 
 which, in its repetition and restriction still stepping forward, hurried 
 on the hearer with it : he was in doubt whether this was his own 
 tune, his former theme ; or one now for the first time so fitted to the 
 words, that no other movement was conceivable. The singers had 
 for some time pleasantly proceeded in this manner, when two stout 
 young fellows came in, whom, by their accouterments, you directly 
 recognized as masons ; two others, who followed them, being as evi- 
 dently carpenters. These four, softly laying down their tools, listened
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 545 
 
 to the music, and soon struck in with sure and decided voices ; so 
 that to the mind it seemed as if a real wayfaring company were 
 stepping along over hill and valley ; and Wifiielm thought he had 
 never heard anything so graceful, so enlivening to heart and mind. 
 This enjoyment, however, was to he increased yet farther, and raised 
 to the highest pitch, by the entrance of a gigantic figure, mounting 
 the stairs with a hard firm tread, which, with all his efforts, he could 
 scarcely moderate. A heavy-laden dorsel lie directly jilaced in the 
 corner ; himself he seated on a bench, which beginning to creak 
 under his weight, the others laughed, yet without going wrong in 
 their mu.sic. VVilhelm, however, was exceedingly surprised,- when, 
 with a huge bass voice, this son of Anak joined in also. Tlie hall 
 quivered ; and it was to be observed that in his part he altered the 
 burden, and sang it thus : 
 
 Life's no resting, but a moving, 
 Let thy life be deed on deed I 
 
 Farther, you could very soon perceive that he was drawing down the 
 time to a slower step, and forcing the rest to follow him. Of this, 
 when at last they were satisfied and had concluded, they accused 
 him ; declaring he liad tried to set them wrong. 
 
 " Not at all ! " cried he : " it is you who tried to set me wrong ; 
 to put me out of my own step, which must be measured and sure, 
 if I am to walk with my loading up hill and down dale, and yet, in 
 the end, arrive at my appointed hour, to satisfy your wants." 
 
 One after the other, these persons now passed into an adjoiningj 
 room to the bailiff ; .and Wilhelm easily observed that they were oc- 
 cupied in settling accounts ; a point, however, as to which he was| 
 not allowed at present to inquire farther. Two fair lively boys in' 
 the meanwhile entered, and began covering a table in all speed, 
 moderately furnishing it with meat and wine ; and the bailiff, coming 
 out, invited them all to sit down along with him. The boys waited ; 
 yet forgot not their own concern, but enjoyed their share in a stand- 
 ing posture. Wilhelm recollected witnessing similar scenes during 
 his abode among the players ; yet the present company seemed to be 
 of a much more serious cast ; constituted not out of sport, for sliow, 
 but with a view to important concerns of life. 
 
 The conversation of the craftsmen with the bailiff added strength 
 to this conviction. These four active young people, it appeared, 
 were busy in the neighborhood, where a violent conflagration had de- 
 stroyed the fairest village in the country ; nor did Wilhelm fail to 
 learn that the worthy bailiff was employed in getting timber and 
 other building materials ; all of which looked the more enigmatical, 
 as none of these persons seemed to be resident here, but in all other 
 points announced themselves as transitory strangers. By way of 
 conclusion to the meal, St. Christopher, such was the name they gave 
 the giant, brought out, for good-night, a dainty glass of wine, which 
 Meister — 18
 
 o4G . MEISTER^S TBAVEL8. 
 
 bad before been set aside : a gay clioral soug kept tbe party still 
 some time together, after tliey were out of sight ; and then Wilhelm 
 was at last conducted to a chamber of the loveliest aspect and situa- 
 tion. The full moon, enlightening a rich plain, was already up ; and 
 in the bosom of our wanderer it awoke remembrances of similar 
 scenes. The spirits of all dear friends hovered past him ; especially 
 the image of Lenardo rose in him so vividly, that he might have 
 fancied the man himself was standing before his eyes. All this had 
 prepared him with its kind influences for nightly rest ; when, on a 
 sudden, there arose a tone of so strange a nature, that it almost 
 frightened him. It sounded as from a distance, and yet seemed to 
 be in the house itself ; for the building quivered many times, and 
 the floors reverberated when the sound rose to the highest pitch. 
 Wilhelm, though his ear was usually delicate in discriminating 
 tones, could make nothing of this ; he compared it to the droning 
 roar of a huge organ-pipe, which, for sheer compass, produces no de- 
 terminate note. Whether this nocturnal terror passed away towards 
 morning, or Wilhelm by degrees became accustomed to the sound, 
 and no longer heeded it, is difficult to discover : at any rate, he fell 
 asleep ; and was in due time pleasantly awakened by the rising sun. 
 
 Scarcely had one of the boys who were in waiting bxouglit him 
 breakfast, when a figure entered, whom he had alread.v noticed last 
 night at supper, without clearly ascertaining his quality. A well- 
 formed, broad-shouldered, yet nimble man ; who now, by the imple- 
 ments he spread out, announced himself asjjarber, and forthwith 
 prepared for preforming his much-desired office on Wilhelm. For the 
 rest, he was quite silent ; and with a light hand he went through his 
 task, without once having opened his lips. Wilhelm therefore began, 
 and said : "Of your art you are completely master ; and I know not 
 that I have ever had a softer razor on my cheeks ; at the same time, 
 howev(.r, you appear to be a strict observer of the laws of the society." 
 
 lloguishly smiling, laying his finger on his lips, the taciturn shaver 
 glided though the door. " Bymy sooth," cried Wilhelm after him, " I 
 think you must be old Eedcloak ; if not himself, at least a descendant 
 of his ; it is lucky for you that you ask no counter service of me ; your 
 turn would have been but sorrily done." 
 
 ]S^o sooner had this curious jjersonage retired, than the well-known 
 baliff came in, inviting our friend to dinner for this day, in words 
 which sounded pretty strange : the Bond, so said the speaker express- 
 ly, gave the stranger welcome ; requested his company at dinner ; 
 and took pleasure in the hope of being more closely connected with 
 him. Inquiries were then made as to the guest's health, and how he 
 was contented with his entertainment ; to all which he could only 
 answer in terms of satisfaction. He would, in truth, have liked 
 much to ask of this man, as previously of the silent barber, some 
 information touching the horrid sound -w hich throughout the night 
 liad, if not tormented, at least discomposed him ; but, mindful of his
 
 CHAPTER XVL 547 
 
 engagement, he forbore all questions ; hoping that, without importu- 
 nity, from the good-will of the society, or in some other accidental 
 way, he might be informed according to his wishes. 
 
 Our friend now, when left alone, began to reflect on the strange 
 person who had sent him this invitation, and knew not well what to 
 make of the matter. To designate one or more superiors by a neuter 
 noun, seemed to him a somewhat precarious mode of speech. For the 
 rest, there was such a stillness all around, that he could not recollect 
 of ever having passed a stiller Sunday. He went out of doors ; and, 
 hearing a sound of bells, walked towards the village. Mass was just 
 over ; and among the villagers and country-people crowding out of 
 church, he observed three acquaintances of last night ; a mason, a 
 carpenter and a boy. Farther on, he met among the Protestant wor- 
 shipers the other corresponding three. How the rest managed their 
 devotion was unknown to him ; but so much he thought himself 
 entitled to conclude, that in this society a full religious toleration was 
 practiced. 
 
 About mid-day, at the castle gate, he was met by the bailiff ; who 
 then conducted him through various halls into a large ante-chamber, 
 and there desired him to take a seat. Many persons passed through 
 into an adjoining hall. Those already known were to be seen among 
 them ; St. Christopher himself went by : all saluted the bailiff and the 
 stranger. But what struck our friend mo.st in this affair was, that 
 the whole party seemed to consist.of artisans ; all dressed in the usual 
 fashion, though extremely neat and clean ; a few among tli6 number 
 you might at most perhaps have reckoned of the clerk species. 
 
 No more guests novy making their appearance, the bailiff led our 
 friend through the stately door into a spacious hall. Here a table of 
 immense length had been covered ; past the lower end of which he 
 was conducted, towards the head, where he saw three persons stand- 
 ing in a cross direction. But what was his astonishment wlien he 
 approached, and Leuardo, scarcely yet recognized, fell upon his neck. 
 From this surprise he had not recovered, when another person, with 
 no less warmtli and vivacity, likewse embraced him ; announcing 
 himself as our strange Friedrich, Natalia's brother. The rapture of 
 these friends diffused itself over all present ; an exclamation of joy 
 and blessing sounded along the whole table. But in a moment, the 
 company being seated, all again became silent ; and the repast, served 
 np with a certain solemnity, was enjoyed in like manner. 
 
 Towards the conclusion of the ceremony, Lenardo gave a sign ; two 
 singers rose, and Wilhelm was exceedingly surprised to hear in this 
 place his yesternight's song ; which we, for the sake of what follows, 
 phall beg permission to insert once more : 
 
 From the monntainp to the champaign, 
 
 By the glens and hills along. 
 Comes a rustling and a tramping, 
 
 Comes a motion as of song.
 
 548 MEISTEB'S TRAVELS. 
 
 And this undetermined roving 
 
 Brings delight, and brings good heed ; 
 And thy'tstriving, be't with loving. 
 
 And thy living, be't in deed 1 
 
 Scarcely had this duet, accompanied by a chorus of agreeable num- 
 ber, approached its conclusion, when two other singers, on the oppo- 
 site side, started up impetuotxsly ; and, with earnest vehemence, 
 inverted rather than continued the song ; to Wilhelm's astonishment, 
 proceeding thus : 
 
 For the tie is snapp'd asunder, 
 
 Trust and loving hope are fled ; 
 Can I tell, in fear and wonder. 
 
 With what dangers round bested, 
 I, cut off from friend and brother. 
 
 Like the widow in her woe, 
 With the one and not the other. 
 
 Now my weary way must go 1 
 
 The chorus, taking u*p this strophe, grew more and more numer- 
 ous, more and more vociferous ; and yet the voice of St. Christopher, 
 from the bottom of the table, could still be distinctly recognized 
 among them. The lamentation, in the end, rose almost to be fright- 
 ful ; a spirit of dispiritment, combining with the skillful execution of 
 the singers, introduced something unnatural into the whole, so that 
 it pained our friend, and almost made him shudder. In truth, they 
 all seemed perfectly of one mind, and as if lamenting their own fate 
 on the eve of a separation. The strange repetitions, the frequent 
 resitscitation of a fatiguing song, at length became dangerous in the 
 eyes of the Bond itself. Lenardo rose, and all instantly sat down, 
 abruptly breaking off their hymn. The other, with friendly words, 
 thus l)egan : 
 
 ' ' Indeed I cannot blame you for continually recalling to yottr minds 
 the destiny which stands before us all, that so, at any hour, you may 
 be ready for it. If aged and life weary men have called to their neigh- 
 bors : Think of dying ! we younger and life-loving men may well 
 keep encouraging and reminding one another with the cheerful 
 words : Think of wandering ! Yet, withal, of a thing which we 
 either voluntarily undertake, or believe ourselves constrained to, it 
 were well to speak with cheerfulness and moderation. You your- 
 selves know best what, in our situation, is fixed, and what is mov- 
 able : let us enjoy the former too, in sprightly and gay tones ; and to 
 its success be this parting cup now drunk ! " He emptied his glass, 
 and sat down : the four singers instantly rose, and in flowing, con- 
 nected tones, thus began : 
 
 Keep not standing fl.^'d and rooted. 
 
 Briskly venture, brisklj' roam ; 
 Head and hand, \vhere'er thou foot it, 
 
 And stout heart, arc still at home.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 549 
 
 In each land the sun does visit 
 
 We are gay whiiteVT betide : 
 To give room for waiidriiig is it 
 
 That the world was made so wide. 
 
 As tlie cliorus struck in with its repetition of these lines, Lenardo 
 rose, with him all the rest. His nod set the whole company into 
 singing movement ; those at the lower end marched out, St. Christo- 
 pher at their head, in pairs through the hall ; and the uplifted 
 wanderers' song grew clearer and freer, the farther they proceeded ; 
 producing at last a particularly good effect, when, from the terraces 
 of the castle-gardeia, you looked down over the broad valley, in whose 
 fullness and beauty you might well have liked to lose yourself. 
 While the multitude were dispersing this way and that, according to 
 tl.'eir pleasure, Wilhelm was made acqtiainted with the third superior. 
 This was the amtmann ; by whose kind influence many favors had 
 been done the society ; in particular, the castle of his patron the 
 count, situated among several families of rank, had been given up to 
 their use, so long as they might think fit to tarry here. 
 
 Towards evening, while the friends were in a far-seeing grove, 
 there came a portly figure over the threshold, whom Wilhelm at once 
 recognized as the barber of this morning. To a low mute bow of 
 the man, Lenardo answered : " You now come, as always, at the right 
 season ; and will not delay to entertain us with your talent. I may 
 be allowed," continued he, turning towards Wilhelm, "to give you 
 some knowledge of our society, the Bond of which I may flatter my- 
 self that I am. No one enters our circle unless he have some talents 
 to show, which may contribute to the use or enjoyment of society in 
 general. This man is an excellent surgeon ; of his skill as beard- 
 artist you yourself can testify ; for these reasons he is no less welcome 
 than necessary to us. Xow, as his employment usually brings with 
 it a great and often burdensome garrulity, he has engaged, for the 
 sake of his own culture, to comply with a certain condition ; as, in- 
 deed, every one that means to live with us must agree to constrain 
 himself in some particular point, if the greater freedom be left him 
 in all other points. Accordingly our barber has renounced the use of 
 his tongue, in so far as aught common or casual is to be expressed by 
 it ; but by this means, another gift of speech has been unfolded in 
 him, which acts by forethought, cunningly and pleastirably ; I mean 
 the gift of narration. 
 
 " His life is rich in wonderful experiences, which he used to split 
 in pieces, babbling of them at wrong times ; but which he now, con- 
 strained by silence, repeats and arranges in his (juiet thought. This 
 also his power of imagination now forwards, lending life and 
 movement to past occurrences. With no common art and skill, he 
 can relate to us genuine antique tales, or modern stories of the same 
 fabulous cast ; thereby at the right hour affording us a most pleasant 
 entertainment, when I loose his tongue for him ; which I now do ;
 
 550 MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 giving liim, at the same time, this praise, that in the considerable 
 period during which I have known him, he has never once been 
 guilty of a repetition. I cannot but hope that, in the present case, 
 for love and respect to our dear guest, he will especially distinguish 
 himself." 
 
 A sprightly cheerfulness spread over Redcloak's face ; and without 
 delay he began speaking as follows. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE NEW MELUSINA. 
 
 " Respected gentlemen ! Being aware that preliminary speeches 
 and introductions are not much to your taste, I shall without farther 
 talk assure you, that in the present instance, I hope to fulfill your 
 commission moderately well. From me has many a true history 
 gone forth already, to the high and universal satisfaction of hearers : 
 but, to day I may assert, that I have one to tell, which far surpasses 
 the former ; and which, though it happened to me several years ago, 
 still disquiets me in recollecting it, nay, still gives hope of some 
 farther development. 
 
 " By way of introduction, let me confess, that I have not always so 
 arranged my scheme of life as to be certain of the next period in it, 
 or even of the next daj'. In my youth, I was no first-rate economist ; 
 and often found myself in manifold perplexity. At one time I under- 
 took a journey, thinking to derive good profit in the course of it : 
 but the scale I went upon was too liberal ; and after having com- 
 menced my travel with extrapost, and then prosecuted it for a time 
 in the diligence, I at last found myself obliged to front the end of it 
 on foot. 
 
 " Like a gay young blade, it had been from of old my custom on 
 entering any inn, to look round for the landlady, or even the cook, 
 and wheedle myself into favor with her, whereby, for most part, my 
 shot was somewhat reduced. 
 
 "One night at dusk, as I was entering the post-house of a little 
 town, and purposing to set about my customary operations, there 
 came a fair double-seated coach with four horses rattling up to the 
 door behind me. I turned round, and observed in it a young lady, 
 without maid, without servants. I hastened to open the carriage for 
 her, and to ask if I could help her in anything. On stepping out, a 
 fair form displayed itself ; and her lovely countenance, if you looked 
 at it narrowly, was adorned with a slight shade of sorrow. I again 
 asked if there was aught I could do for her. ' yes ! ' said she, ' if
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 551 
 
 you will lift that little box carefully, which you will find standing on 
 the seat, and bring it in ; but I beg very much of you to carry it with 
 all steadiness, and hot to move or shake it in the least.' I took out 
 the box with great care ; she shut the coach door ; we walked upstairs 
 Together, and she told the servants that she was to stay here for the 
 night. 
 
 " We were now alone in the chamber ; she desired me to put the 
 box on the table, which was standing at the wall ; and as, by several 
 of her movements, I observed that she wished to be alone, I took my 
 leave, reverently but warml}' kissing her hand. 
 
 " ' Order supper for us two,' said she then ; and you may well con- 
 ceive with what pleasure I executed the commission ; scarcely deign- 
 ing, in my pride of heart to cast even a side look on landlady and 
 menials. With impatience I expected the moment that was to lead 
 me back to her. Supper was served ; we took oar seats opposite to 
 each other ; I refreshed my heart, for the first time during a consider- 
 able while, with a good meal ; and no less with so desirable a sight 
 beside me : nay, it seemed as if she were growing fairer and fairer 
 every moment. 
 
 •' Her conversation was pleasant ; yet she carefully waved wdiatever 
 had reference to affection and love. The cloth was removed ; I still 
 lingered, I tried all sorts of maneuvers to get near her, but in vain ; 
 she kept me at my distance, by a certain dignity which I could not 
 withstand ; nay, against my will, I had to part with her at a rather 
 early hour. 
 
 " After a night passed in waking or unrestfully dreaming, I rose 
 early ; inquired whether she had ordered horses ; and learning that 
 she had not, I walked into the garden, saw her standing dressed at 
 -the window, and hastened up to her. Here, as she looked so fair, and 
 fairer than ever, love, roguery and audacity all at dnce started into 
 motion within me : 1 rushed towards her and clasped her in my arms. 
 ' Angelic, irresistible being,' cried 1, ' pardon ! but it is impossible — !'^ 
 With incredible dexterity she whisked herself out of my arms, and I 
 had not even time to imprint a kiss on her cheek. ' Forbear such out- 
 breakings of a sudden foolish passion,' said she, 'if you would not 
 scare away a happiness which lies close beside you, but which cannot 
 be laid hold of till after some trials.' 
 
 " ' Ask of me what thou pleasest, angelic spirit ! ' cried I ; ' but do 
 not drive me to despair.' She answered with a smile : ' If you mean 
 to devote yourself to my service, hear the terms. I am come hither 
 to visit a iady of my friends, and with her I purpose to continue for 
 a time ; in the meanwhile, I could wish that my carriage and this 
 box were taken forward. Will you engage with it ? You have noth- 
 ing to do, but carefully to lift the box into the carriage and out ; to 
 sit down beside it, and punctually take charge that it receive no harm. 
 When you enter an inn, it is nut upon a table, in a chamber by itself, 
 in which you must neither sit nor sleep. You lock the chamber door
 
 553 MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 with this key, which will open and shut any lock, and has the pecu- 
 liar property, that no lock shut by it can be opened in the interim.' 
 
 " I looked at her ; I felt strangely enough at heart ; I promised to 
 do all, if I might hope to see her soon, and if she would seal this 
 hope to me with a kiss. She did so ; and from that moment, I had 
 become entirely her bondman. I was now to order horses, she said. 
 We settled the way I was to take ; the ])laces where I was to wait, 
 and expect her. She at last pressed a purse of gold into my hand, 
 and I pressed my lips on the fair hand that gave it nie. She seemed 
 moved at parting ; and for me, I no longer knew what I was doing or 
 was to do. 
 
 "On my return from giving my orders, I found the room door 
 locked. I directly tried my master-key, and it performed its duty 
 perfectly. Tlie door flew up ; 1 found the cliamber empty ; only the 
 l)ox standing on tlie table where I had laid it. 
 
 " The carriage drove up ; I carried the box carefully down with 
 me, and placed it by my side. The hostes.s asked : ' Where is the 
 lady, then V ' A child answered: 'She is gone into the town.' I 
 nodded to the people ; and rolled off in triumph from the door, wliich 
 I had last night entered with dusty gaiters. That in my hours of 
 leisure I dilligently meditated on this adventure, counted my monej^ 
 laid many schemes, and still now and then kept glancing at the box, 
 you will readily imagine. I posted right forward ; passed several 
 stages without alighting ; and rested not till 1 had reached a consider- 
 able town, where my fair one had appointed me to wait. Her com- 
 mands had been pointedly obeyed : the box always carried to a 
 separate room, and two wax candles lighted beside it, for such also 
 liad been her order. I would then lock the chamber ; establish my- 
 self in my own, and take such comfort as the place aiforded. 
 
 " For a while I was able to employ myself with thinking of her ; 
 but by degrees the time began to hang heavy on my hands. I Avas 
 not used to live without companions : these I soon found, at tables- 
 d'hote, in coifee-houses and public places, altogether to my wish. In 
 such a mode of living my money began to melt away ; and one night, 
 it vanished entirely from my purse, in a fit of passionate gaming, 
 which I had not had the prudence to abandon. Void of money ; with 
 the appearance of a rich man, expecting a heavy bill of charges ; un- 
 certain whether and when my fair one would again make her appear- 
 ance, I felt myself in the deepest embarrassment. Donbly did I now 
 Ipng for her ; and believe that, without her and her gold, it was quite 
 impossible for me to live. 
 
 " After supper, which I had reli.shed very little, being forced for 
 tins time to consume it in solitude, I took to walking violently up and 
 rlown my room : I spoke aloud to myself, cursed my folly with horrid 
 execrations, threw myself on the floor, tore my hair, and indeed be- 
 haved in the most outrageous fashion. Suddenly, in the adjoining 
 chamber where the box was, I lieard a slisrht movement, and then a
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 553 
 
 soft knocking at the well -bolted door, which entered from my apart- 
 ment. I gather myself, grope for my master-key ; but the door- leaves 
 fly up of themselves ; and in the splendor of those burning wax-lights 
 enters ray beauty. I cast myself at her feet, kiss her robe, her hands ; 
 she raises me ; I venture not to clasp her, scarcely to look at her ; 
 but candidly and repentantly confess to her my fault. 'It is par- 
 donable,' said she ; ' only it postpones your happiness and mine. 
 You must now make another tour into the world before we can meet 
 again. Here is more money,' continued she, ' sufficient if you hus- ' 
 band it with any kind of reason. But as wine and play have brought 
 you into this perplexity, be on your guard in future against wine and 
 women, and let me hope for a glad meeting when the time comes.' 
 
 " She retired over the threshold : the door-leaves flew together ; I 
 knocked, I entreated ; but nothing farther stirred. Next morning, 
 while presenting his bill, the waiter smiled, and said : ' So we have 
 found out at last, then, why you lock your door in so artful and incom- 
 prehensible a way, that no master-key can open it. We supposed 
 you must have much money and precious ware laid tip by you ; but 
 now we have seen your treasure walking downstairs ; and in good 
 truth it seemed worthy of being well kept.' 
 
 " To this I answered nothing ; but paid my reckoning, and mounted 
 with my box into the carriage. I again rolled forth into the world, 
 with the firmest resolution to be heedful in future of the warning 
 given me by my fair and mysterious friend. Scarcely, however, liad^ 
 I once more reached a large town, when forthwith I got acquainted' 
 with certain interesting ladies, from whom I absolutely cotild notj 
 tear myself away. They seemed inclined to make me pay dear fori 
 their favor ; for while they still kept me at a certain distance, they 
 led me into one expense after the other ; and I, being anxious only 
 to promote their satisfaction, once more ceased to think of my purse, 
 but paid and spent straightfoward, as occasion needed. But how 
 great was my astonishment and joy, when, after sojne weeks, I 
 observed that the fullness of my store was not iu the least diminished, 
 that my purse was still as round and crammed as ever ! Wishing to 
 obtain more strict knowledge of this pretty quality, I set myself down 
 to count ; I accurately marked the sum ; and again proceeded in my 
 joyous life as before. We had no want of excursions by laud, and 
 excursions by water ; of dancing, singing and other recreations. But 
 now it required small attention to observe that the purse was actually 
 diminishing ; as if by my cursed counting I had robbed it of tile 
 property of being uncountable. However, tliis gay mode of existence 
 had been once entered on ; I could not draw back ; and yet my ready 
 money soon verged to a close. I execrated my situation ; upbraided 
 my fair friend, for having so led me into temptation ; took it as an 
 offense that she did not again show herself to me ; renounced, in my 
 spleen, all duties towards her ; and resolved to break open the box, 
 and see if peradventure any help might be found there, I was just
 
 554 MEISTEIt'S TRAVELS. 
 
 about proceeding witli my purpose ; but I put it off till night, that I 
 might go through the business with full composure ; and, in the 
 meantime. I hastened ofE to a banquet, for which this was the ap- 
 pointed hour, Here again we got into a high key ; the wine and 
 trumpet-sounding had flushed me not a little, when by the most 
 villainous luclc it chanced, that during the dessert, a former friend of 
 my dearest fair one, returning from a journey, entered unexpectedly, 
 placed himself beside her, and without much ceremony, set about 
 asserting his old privileges. Hence very soon arose ill-humor, quar- 
 reling and battle ; we plucked out our spits ; and I was carried home 
 half dead of several wounds. 
 
 "The surgeon had bandaged me and gone away : it was far in 
 the night ; my sick nurse had fallen asleep ; the door of the side- 
 room went up ; my fair mysterious friend came in, and sat down by 
 me on the bed. She asked how I was : I answered not, for I was 
 faint and sullen. She continued speaking with much sympathy : 
 she rubbed my temples with a certain balsam, whereby I felt myself 
 rapidly and decidedly strengthened, so strengthened that I could now 
 get angry and upbraid her. In a violent speech I threw all the 
 blame of my misfortune on her ; on tlie passion she had inspired me 
 with ; on her appearing and vanishing, and the tedium, the longing 
 which in such a case I could not but feel. I waxed more and more 
 vehement, as if a fever had been coming on ; and I swore to her at 
 last, that if she would not be mine, would not now abide with me 
 and wed me, I had no wish to live any longer ; to all which I re- 
 quired a peremptory answer. As she lingered and held back with 
 her explanation, I got altogether beside myself, and tore off my 
 double and triple bandages, in the firmest resolution to bleed to 
 death. But what was my amazement, when I found all my wounds 
 healed, my skin smooth and entire, and this fair friend in my arms ! 
 
 " Henceforth we were the happiest pair in the world. We both 
 begged pardon of each other, without either of us rightly knowing 
 why. She now promised to travel on along with me ; and soon we 
 were sitting side by side in the carriage ; the little box lying opposite 
 us on the other seat. Of this I had never spoken to her, nor did I 
 now think of speaking, though it lay there before our eyes ; and 
 both of us, by tacit agreement, took charge of it, as circumstances 
 might require ; I, however, .still cariying it to and from the carriage, 
 and busying myself, as formerly, with the locking of the doors. 
 
 " So long as aught remained in my purse, I had continued to pay : 
 but when my cash went done, I signified the fact to her. ' That is 
 easily helped,' said she, pointing to a couple of little pouches fixed 
 at the top, to the sides of the carriage. These I had often observed 
 before, but never turned to nse. She put her hand into the one, and 
 pulled out some gold pieces, as from the other some coins of silver ; 
 thereby showing me the possibility of meeting any scale of expendi- 
 ture, which we might choose to adopt. And thus we journeyed on
 
 CHAPTER XVIT. 556 
 
 from town to town, from land to land ; contented with each other 
 and with the world ; and I fancied not tliut she would again leave 
 me ; the less so, that for some time she had evidently been as loving 
 wives wish to be, a circunistauce by which our happiness and mu- 
 tual affection was increased still farther. But one morning, alas, 
 she could not be found : and as my actual residence, without her 
 company, "became displeasing, I again took the road with my box ; 
 tried the virtue of the two pouches, and found it still unimpaired. 
 
 " My journey proceeded without accident. But if I had hitherto 
 paid little heed to the mysteries of my adventure, expecting a natural 
 solution of th?! Avhole, there now occurred something which threw 
 me into astonishment, into anxiety, nay, into fear. Being wont, in 
 my impatience for change of place, to hurry forward day and night, 
 it was often my hap to be traveling in the dariv : and when the 
 lamps, by any chance, weut out, to be left in utter obscurity. Once 
 in the dead of such a night, I had fallen asleep ; and on awakening 
 I observed the glimmer of a light on the covering of my carriage. I 
 examined this more strictly, and found that it was issuing from the 
 box ; in which there seemed to be a chinlc, as if it had been chapped 
 by tbe warm and dry weather of summer, which was now come on. 
 ^ly thoughts of jewels again came into my head ; I supposed there 
 must be some carbuncle lying in the box, and this point I forthwith 
 set about investigating. I postured myself as well as might be, so 
 that my eye was in immediate contact with the chink. But how 
 great was my surprise, when a fair apartment, well lighted, and 
 furnished witli muc-h taste and even costliness, met my inspection, 
 just as if I had been looking down through the opening of a dome 
 into a rAyal saloon ! A fire was burning in the grate ; and before it 
 stood an arm-chair. I held my breath and continued to observe. 
 And now there entered from the other side of the apartment a lady 
 with a book in her hand, whom I at once recognized for my wife, 
 though her figure was contracted into the extreme of diminution. 
 She sat down in the chair by the fire to read ; she trimmed the coals 
 with the most dainty pair of tongs ; and in the course of her move- 
 ments, I could clearly perceive that this fairest little creature was 
 also in the family Avay. But now I was obliged to shift my con- 
 strained posture a little ; and the next moment, when 1 bent down to 
 look in again, and convince myself that it was no dream, the light 
 had vanished, and my eye rested on empty darkness. 
 
 "How amazed, nay, terrified I was, yoti may easily conceive. I 
 started a thousand thoughts on this discover}', and in truth could 
 think nothing. In the midst of this, I fell asleep ; and on awakening, 
 I fancied that it must have been a mere dream ; yet 1 felt myself in 
 some degree estranged from my fair one ; and though I watched over 
 the box but so much the more carefully, I knew not whether the 
 event of her re-appearance in human size was a thing which I should 
 wish or dread.
 
 556 MEISTER' 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 "After some time she did in fact re-appear: one evening, in a 
 white robe, she came gliding in ; and as it was ju'St then growing 
 duslty in my room, she seemed to me taller than when I had seen her 
 last ; and I remembered having heai'd that all beings of the mermaid 
 and gnome species increased in stature very perceptibly at the fall of 
 night. She flew, as usual, to my arms ; but I could not with right 
 gladness press her to my obstructed breast. 
 
 " ' My dearest,' said she, ' I now feel by thy reception of me, what, 
 alas, I already knew too well. Thou hast seen me in the interim ; 
 thou art acquainted with the state in which, at certain times, I find 
 myself ; thy happiness and mine is interrupted, nay, it stands on the 
 brink of being annihilated altogether. I must leave thee ; and I 
 know not whether I shall ever see thee again.' Her presence, the 
 grace with which she spoke, directly banished from my memory 
 almost every trace of that vision, which indeed had already liovered 
 before me as little more than a dream. I addressed her with kind 
 vivacity, convinced her of my passion, assured her that I was inno- 
 cent, that my discovery was accidental ; in short, I so managed it that 
 she appeared composed, and endeavored to compose me. 
 
 " 'Try thyself strictly,' said she, ' whether this discovery has not 
 hurt thy love, whether thou canst forget that I live in two forms be- 
 side thee, whether the diminution of my being will not also contract 
 thy affection.' 
 
 "I looked at her : she was fairer than ever ; and I thought within 
 my.self : is it so great a misfortune, after all, to have a wife who 
 from time to time becomes a dwarf, so that one can carry her about 
 with him in a casket? Were it not much worse if she became a 
 giantess, and put her husband in the box? My gayety of heart had 
 returned. I would not for the whole world have let her go. ' Best 
 heart,' said I, ' let us be and continue ever as we have been. Could 
 either of us wish to be better? Enjoy thy couveniency ; and I 
 promise thee to guard the box with so much the more faithfulness. 
 Why should the prettiest sight I have ever seen in my life make a 
 bad impression on me? How happy would lovers be, could they 
 but procure such miniature pictures ! And after all, it was but a 
 picture, a little sleight-of-hand deception. Thou art trying and teas- 
 ing me ; but thou shalt see how I will stand it.' 
 
 " ' The matter is more serious than thou thinkest,' said the fair one ; 
 ' however, I am truly glad to see thee take it so lightly ; for much 
 good may still be awaiting iis both. I will trust in thee ; and for my 
 own part, do my utmost ; only promise me that thou wilt never men- 
 tion this discovery by Avay of reproach. Another prayer likewise I 
 most earnestly make to thee : be more than ever on thy guard against 
 wine and anger.' 
 
 " I promised what she required ; I could have gone on promising to 
 all lengths, but she herself turned aside the conversation ; and thence- 
 forth all proceeded in its former routine. We had no inducement to
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 557 
 
 alter our place of residence ; the town was large, the society various, 
 and the fine season gave rise to many an excursion and garden fes- 
 tival. 
 
 "In all such amusements the presence of my wife was welcome, 
 nay, eagerly desired, by women as well as men. A kind, insinuating 
 manner, joined with a certain dignity of bearing, secured to heron all 
 hands praise and estimation. Besides, she could play beautifully on 
 the lute, accompanying it with her voice ; and no social night could 
 be perfect, unless crowned by the graces of this talent. 
 
 " r will be free to confess that I have never got much good of music ; 
 on the contrary, it has always rather had a disagreeable effect on me. 
 My fair one soon noticed this, and accordingly, when by ourselves, 
 she never tried to entertain me by such means ; in return, however, 
 she appeared to indemnify herself while in society, where indeed she 
 always found a crowd of admirers. 
 
 " And now, why should I deny it, our late dialogue, in spite of my 
 best intentions, had by no means sufficed to abolish the matter within 
 me ; on the contrary, my temper of mind had by degrees got into the 
 strangest tune, almost without my being conscious of it. One night, 
 in a large company, this hidden grudge broke loose, and by its conse- 
 quences, produced to myself the greatest damage. 
 
 " When I look back on it now, I in fact loved my beauty far less 
 after that unlucky discovery ; I was also growing jealous of her ; a 
 whim that had never struck me before. This night at table, I found 
 myself placed, very much to my mind, beside my two neighbors, a 
 couple of ladies, who, for some time, had appeared to me very charm- 
 ing. Amid jesting and soft small talk, I was not sparing of my wine ; 
 while, on the other side, a pair of musical dilettanti had got hold of 
 my wife, and at last contrived to lead the company into singing sepa- 
 rately, and by way of chorus. This put me into ill-humor. The two 
 amateurs appeared to me impertinent ; the singing vexed me ; and 
 when, as my turn came, they even requested a solo-strophe from me, 
 I grew truly indignant, I emptied my glass, and set it down again 
 with no soft niovement. 
 
 "The grace of my two fair neighbors soon pacified me, indeed; 
 but there is an evil nature in wrath, when once it is set a-going. It 
 went on fermenting within me, though all things were of a kind to 
 induce joy and complaisance. On the contrary, I waxed more splenetic 
 than ever when a lute was produced, and my fair one began fingering 
 it and singing, to the admiration of all the rest. Unhappily, a general 
 silence was requested. So then, I was not even to talk any more ; 
 and these tones were going through me like a toothache. Was it any 
 wonder that, at last, the smallest spark should blow up the mine ? 
 
 " The songstress had just ended a song amid the loudest applauses, 
 when she looked over to me ; and this truly with the most loving face 
 in the world. Unluckily, its lovingness could not penetrate so far. 
 She perceived that I had just gulped down a cup of wine, and was
 
 ^ns MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 pouring out a fresh one. With her right forefinger she beckoned to 
 lue in kind threatening. ' Consider that it is wine ! ' said she, not 
 louder than for myself to hear it. — ' Water is for mermaids ! ' cried 
 1. — ' My ladies,' said she to my neighbors, ' crown the cup with all 
 your gracefulness, that it be not too often emptied.' — ' You will not 
 "let yourself be tutored ?' whispered one of them in my ear. — ' What 
 ails' the dwarf ? ' cried I, with a more violent gesture, in which I over- 
 set the glass. — 'Ah, what you have spilt !' cried the paragon of 
 women ; at the same time twanging her strings, as if to lead back 
 the attention of the company from this disturbance to herself. Her 
 attempt succeeded ; the more completely as she rose to her feet, seem- 
 ingly that she might play with greater convenience, and in this atti- 
 tude continued preluding. 
 
 " At .sight of the red wine running over the table-cloth, I returned 
 to myself. I perceived the great fault 1 had been guilty of ; and it 
 (uit mc through the very heart. Never till now had music spoken to 
 me : the first verse she sang was a friendly good-night to the com- 
 pany, here as they were, as they might still feel themselves together. 
 With the next verse they became as if scattered asunder ; each felt 
 himself solitary, separated, no one could fancy that he was present 
 any longer. But what shall I say of the last verse ? It was directed 
 to me alone ; the voice of injured love bidding farewell to moroseness 
 and caprice. 
 
 " In silence I conducted her home ; foreboding no good. Scarcely, 
 however, had we reached our chamber, when .she began to show her- 
 .self exceedingly kind and graceful, nay, even roguish ; she made me 
 the happie.st of all men. 
 
 " Next morning, in high spirits and full of love, I said to her : 
 ' Thou hast so often sung, when asked in company ; as, for example, 
 thy touching farewell song last night. Come now, for my sake, and 
 sing me a dainty gay welcome to this morning hour, that we ma}- 
 f eel as if we were meeting for the first time.' 
 
 " 'That I may not do, my friend,' said she, seriously. 'The song 
 of last night referred to our parting, which must now forthwith take 
 place ; for I can only tell thee, the violation of thy promise and oath 
 will have the worst consequences for ns both ; thou hast scoffed away 
 a great felicity, and I too must renounce my dearest wishes.' 
 
 "As I now pressed and entreated her to explain herself more 
 clearly, she answered : 'That, alas, I can well do ; for, at all.events, 
 my continuance with thee is over. Hear, then, what I would rather 
 have concealed to the latest times. The form, under which thou 
 sawest me in the box, is my natural and proper form ; for I am of the 
 race of King Eckwald, the dread sovereign of the dwarfs, concerning 
 whom authentic history has recorded so much. Our people are still 
 as of old laborious and busy, and therefore easy to govern. " Thou 
 must not fancy that the d\V'arfs are behindhand in their manufactur- 
 ing skill, y words which followed the foe, when you cast them after
 
 CHAPTER XVIL 559 
 
 him •, invisible aud mysteriously binding chains ; impenetrable 
 shiells, and suchlike ware in old times, formed their staple produce. 
 But now they chiefly employ themselves with articles of convenience 
 and crnameut ; in which truly tliey surpass all people of the eartli. 
 I may well say, it would astonish thee to walk through our work- 
 shops and warehouses. All this would be right and good, were it 
 not that with the whole nation in general, but more particularly with 
 the royal family, there is one particular circumstance connected.' 
 
 " She paused for a moment ; and I again begged farther ligUt on 
 these wonderful secrets ; which accordingly she forthwitli proceeded 
 to grant. 
 
 " ' It is well known,' said she, ' that God, so soon as he had created 
 the world, and the ground was dry, and the mountains were standing 
 bright and glorious, that God, I say, thereupon, in the very first place, 
 created the dwarf.s ; to the end that there nught be reasonable beings 
 also, who, in their passages and chasms, might contemplate and 
 adore his wonders in the inward parts of the earth. It is farther well 
 known, that this little race by degrees became uplifted in heart, and 
 attempted to acquire the dominion of the eartli ; for which reason 
 God then created the dragons, in order to drive back the dwarfs into 
 their mountains. Now, as the dragons themselves were wont to 
 nestle in the large caverns pud clefts, and dwell there ; and many of 
 them, too, were in the habit of spitting fire, and working much 
 other mischief, the poor little dwarfs were by this means thrown into 
 exceeding straits and distress, 'So that not knowing what in the world to 
 do, they humbly and fervently turned to God, and called to him in j 
 prayer, that he would vouchsafe to abolish this unclean dragon genera- j 
 tion. But though it consisted not with his wisdom to destroy his 
 own creatures, yet the heavy sufferings of the poor dwarfs so moved ■ 
 his compassion, that anon he created the, giants, ordering them to fight 
 these dragons, and if not root them out, at least lessen their numbers, i 
 
 "'Now, no sooner had the giants got moderately well through 
 with the dragons, than their hearts also began to wax wanton ; and,, 
 in their presumption, they practiced much tyranny, especially on the 
 good little dwarfs, who then once more in their need turned to the 
 Lord ; and he, by the power of his hand, created the knights, who 
 were to make war on the giants and dragons, and to live in concord 
 with the dwarfs. Hereby was the work of creation completed on 
 this side : and it is plain, that henceforth giants and dragons, as well 
 as knights and dwarfs, have always maintained themselves in being. 
 From this, my friend, it will be clear to thee, that we are of the oldest 
 race on the eartli ; a circumstance which does us honor, but, at the 
 same time, brings great disadvantage along with it. 
 
 " 'For as there is nothing in the world that can endure forever, 
 but all thalhas once been great, must become little and fade, it is 
 our lot also, that ever since the creation of the world we have been 
 waning and growing smaller : e.specially the royal family, on whom,
 
 660 MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 by reason of tlieir pure blood, this destiny presses with the heaviest 
 force. To remedy this evil, our wise teachers have many years ago 
 devised the expedient of sending forth a princess of the royal liouse 
 from time to time into the world, to wed some honorable knight, 
 that so the dwarf progeny may be refected, and saved from efutire 
 decay.' 
 
 " Though my fair one related these things with an air of the 
 utmost sincerity, I looked at her hesitatingly ; for it seemed as if she 
 meant to palm some fable on me. As to her own dainty lineage, I 
 had not the smallest doubt ; but that she should have laid hold of me 
 in place of a knight, occasioned some mistrust ; seeing I knew myself 
 too well to suppose that my ancestors had come into the world by an 
 immediate act of creation. 
 
 " I concealed my wonder and skepticism, and asked her kindly : 
 ' But tell me, my dear child, how hast thou attained this large and 
 stately shape ? For I know few women that in richness of form can 
 compare with thee' — ' Thou slialt hear,' replied she. ' It is a settled 
 maxim in the council of the dwarf kings, that this extraordinary step 
 be forborne as long as it possibly can ; which, indeed, I cannot but 
 say is quite natural and proper. Perhaps they might have lingered 
 still longer, had not my brother, born after me, come into the world 
 so exceedingly small, that the nurses actually lost him out of his 
 swaddling-clothes, and no creature yet knows whither»he is gone. 
 On this occurrence, unexampled in the annals of dwarfdom, the sages 
 were assembled ; and without more ado, the resolution was taken, 
 and I sent out in quest of a husband.' 
 
 " ' The resolution ! ' exclaimed I : ' that is all extremely well. One 
 can resolve, one can take his resolution ; but to give a dwarf this 
 heavenly shape, how did your sages manage that ?' 
 
 " ' It had been provided" for already," said she, ' by our ancestors. 
 In the royal treasury lay a monstrous gold ring. I speak of it as it 
 then appeared to me, when I saw it in my childhood ; for it was this 
 same ring, which I have here on my finger. We now went to work 
 as follows : 
 
 " ' r was informed of all that awaited me ; and instructed what I 
 had to do and to forbear. A splendid palace, after the pattern of my 
 father's favorite summer-residence, was then got ready : a main edifice, 
 wings, and whatever else you could think of. It stood at the entrance 
 of a large rock-cleft, which it decorated in the handsomest style. On 
 the appointed day, our court moved thither, my parents also and my- 
 self. The army paraded ; and four-and-twenty priests, not without 
 difficulty, carried on a costly litter the mysterious ring. It was placed 
 on the threshold of the building, just 'within the spot where you 
 entered. Many ceremonies were observed ; and after a pathetic fare- 
 well, I proceeded to my task. I stepped forward to the ring ; laid 
 my finger on it ; and tliat instant began perceptibly to wax in stature. 
 In a few moments I had reached my present size ; and then I put the
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 561 
 
 ring ou my finger. But now, in the twinkling of an eye, tlie doors, 
 windows, gates flapped to ; the wings drew up iuto the body of the 
 _ edifice ; instead of a palace, stood a little box beside me ; which I 
 forthwith lifted and carried off with me ; not without a pleasant 
 feeling in being so tall and strong ; still, indeed, a dwarf to trees 
 and mountains, to streams and tracts of laud ; yet a giant to grass 
 and herbs ; and above all to ants, from 'whom we dwarfs, not being 
 always on the best terms with them, often suffer considerable annoy- 
 ance. 
 
 " ' How it fared with me on my pilgrimage, I might tell thee at 
 great length. Suffice it to say I tried many ; but no one save thou 
 seemed worthy of being honored to renovate and perpetuate the line 
 of the glorious Eckwald.' 
 
 "In the coarse of these narrations, my head had now and then 
 kept wagging, without myself having absolutely shaken it. I put 
 several questions ; to which I received no very satisfactory answers ; 
 on the contrary, I learned to my great affliction, that after what had 
 happened, she must needs return to her parents. She had hopes still, 
 she said of getting back to me ; but for the present, it was iudisjien- 
 sably necessary to present herself at court ; as otherwise, both for 
 her and for mo, there was nothing but utter ruin. The purses would 
 soon cease to pay ; and who knew what all would be the consequences ? 
 
 " On hearing that our money would run short, I inquired no farther 
 into consequences. I shrugged my shoulders ; I was silent, and she 
 seemed to understand me. 
 
 " We now packed up, and got into our carriage ; the box standing 
 opposite to us ; in which, however, I could still see no symptoms of 
 a palace. In this way we proceeded several stages. Post money and 
 drink money were readily and richly paid from the pouches to the 
 right and left ; till at last we reached a mountainous district ; and no 
 sooner had we alighted here, than my fair one walked forward, direct- 
 ing me to follow her with the box. She led me by rather steej^ paths 
 to a narrow plot of green ground, through which a clear brook now 
 gushed in little falls, now ran in quiet windings. She pointed to a 
 little knoll ; bade me .set the box down there, then said : ' Farewell ! 
 Thou wilt easily find the way back ; remember me ; I hope to see 
 thee again.' 
 
 " At this moment, I felt as if I could not leave her. She was just 
 now in one of her fine days, or if you will, her fine hours. Alone 
 with so fair a being, on the greensward, among grass and flowers, 
 girt in by rocks, waters murmuring round you, what heart could have 
 remained insensible ! I came forward to seize her hand, to clasp her 
 in my arms ; but she motioned me back ; threatening me, though 
 still kindly enough, with great danger, if I did not instantly with- 
 draw. 
 
 " ' Is there no possibility, then,' exclaimed I, ' of my staying with 
 thee, of thy keeping me beside thee ? ' These words 'l uttered with
 
 562 MEISTER' 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 such rueful tones and gestures, tLat she seemed touched by them, 
 and after some thought confessed to me that a continuance of our 
 union was not entirely impossible. Wlio happier than I ! My impor- 
 tunity, which increased every moment, compelled her at last to come 
 out with lier scheme, and inform me that if I too could resolve on 
 becoming as little as I had once seen her, I might still remain with 
 her, be admitted to her house, her kingdom, her family. The propo- 
 sal was not altogether to my mind ; yet at this moment I positively 
 could not tear myself away ; so, having already for a good while 
 been accustomed to the marvelous, and being at all times prone to 
 bold enterprises, 1 closed with her offer, and said she might do with 
 me as she pleased. 
 
 " I was thereupon directed to hold out the little finger of my right 
 hand ; she placed her own against it ; then with her left hand she 
 quite softly pulled the ring from her finger, and let it run along mine. 
 That instant, I felt a violent twinge on my finger ; the ring shrunk 
 together, and tortured me horribly. I gave a loud cry, and caught 
 round me for my fair one, but she had disappeared. What state of 
 mind I was in during this moment, I find no words to express ; so I 
 have nothing more to say, but that I very soon, in my miniature size, 
 found myself beside my fair one in a wood of grass stalks. The joy 
 of meeting after this short yet most strange separation, or, if you 
 will, of this reunion without separation, exceeds all conception. I 
 fell on her neck ; she replied to my caresses, and the little pair was 
 as happy as the large one. 
 
 "With some difficulty, we now mounted a hill: t say difficulty, 
 because the sward had become for us an almost impenetrable forest. 
 Yet at length Ave reached a bare space ; and how surprised was I at 
 perceiving there a large bolted mass ; which, ere long, I could not 
 but recognize for the box, in the same state as when I had set it 
 down. 
 
 " 'Go up to it, my friend,' said she, ' and do but knock with the 
 ring ; thou shalt see wonders.' I went up accordingly, and no sooner 
 had I rapped, than I did, in fact, witness the greatest wonder. Two 
 wings came jutting out ; and at the same time there fell, like scales 
 and chips, various pieces this way and that ; while doors, windows, 
 colonnades, and all that belongs to a complete palace at once came 
 into view. 
 
 " If ever you have seen one of Riintchen's desks ; how, at one pull, 
 a multitude of springs and latches get in motion, and writing board 
 and writing materials, letter and money compartments, all at once, 
 or in quick succession, start forward, you will partly conceive how 
 this palace unfolded itself, into which my sweet attendant now intro- 
 duced me. In the large saloon, I directly recognized the fireplace 
 which I had formerly seen from above, and the chair in which she had 
 then been sitting. And on looking \ip, I act\ially fancied 1 could still 
 see something of the cliink in the dome, through which I had peeped
 
 CHAPTER XVTI. 563 
 
 iu. I spare you the description of the rest : iu a word, all was spa- 
 cious, splendid and tasteful. Scarcely had I recovered from my aston- 
 ishment, when I heard afar off a sound of military music. My better 
 half sprang up ; and with rapture announced to me the approach of 
 his majesty her father. We stepped out to the threshold, and here 
 beheld a magnificent procession moving towards us, from a consider- 
 able cleft in the rock. Soldiers, servants, officers of state and glitter- 
 ing courtiers, followed in order. At last you observed a golden throng, 
 and iu the midst of it the king himself. So soon as the whole pro- 
 cession had drawn up before the palace, the king, with his nearest 
 retinue, stepped forward. His loving daughter hastened out to meet 
 him, pulling me along with her. We threw ourselves at his feet ; 
 he raised me very graciously ; and on coming to stand before him, I 
 perceived, that in this little world I was still the most considerable 
 figure. We proceeded together to the palace, where his majesty, in 
 presence of his whole court, was pleased to welcome me with a well- 
 studied oration, iu which he expressed his surprise at finding us here, 
 acknowledged me as his son-in-law, and appointed the nuptial cere- 
 mony to take place on the morrow. 
 
 " A cold sweat went over me as I h(>ai\l him speak of marriage ; 
 for I dreaded this even more than musie, which otherwise appeared 
 to me the most hateful thing on earth. Your uuisic-makers, I used 
 to say, enjoy at least the conceit of being in unison with each other, 
 and working iu concord ; for when they have tweaked and tuned 
 long enough, grating our ears with all manner of screeches, they be- 
 lieve in their hearts that the matter is now adjusted, and one instru- 
 ment accurately suited to the other. The band-master himself is in 
 this happy delusion ; and so they set forth joyfully, though still tear- 
 ing our nerves to pieces. In the marriage -state, even this is not the 
 case ; for although it is but a duet, and jou might think two voices, 
 or even two instruments, might in some degree be attuned to each 
 other, yet this happens very seldom ; for while the man gives out 
 one tone, the wife directly takes a higher one, and the man again a 
 higher ; and so it rises from the chamber to the choral pitch, and 
 farther and farther, till at last wind-instruments themselves cannot 
 reach it. And now, as harmonical music itself is an offense to me, 
 it will not be surprising that disharmonical should be a thing Which 
 I cannot endure. 
 
 " Of the festivities in which the day was spent, I shall and can say 
 nothing ; for I paid small heed to any of them. The sumptuous 
 victuals, tlie generous wine, the royal amusements, I could not relish. 
 I kept thinking and considering what I was to do. Here, however, 
 there was but little to be considered. I determined, once for all, to 
 take myself away, and hide somewhere. Accordingly, I succeeded in 
 reaching the chink of a stone, where I intrenched and concealed my- 
 self as well as might be. My first care after this was to get the un- 
 happy ring off my finger ; an enterprise, however, which would by
 
 564 ME18TER' 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 no means prosper, for, on the contrary, I felt that every pull I gave, 
 the metal grew straUer and cramped me with violent pains, which 
 again abated so soon as I desisted from my purpose. 
 
 " Early in the morning I awoke (for my little person had slept, and 
 very soundly) ; and was just stepping out to look farther about me, 
 when I felt a kind of rain coming on, Through the grass, flowers 
 and leaves, there fell as it were something like sand and grit in large 
 quantities ; but what was my horror when the whole of it became 
 alive, and an innumerable host of ants rushed down on me ! No 
 sooner did they observe me, than they made an attack on all sides ; 
 and though I defended myself stoutly and gallantly enough, they at 
 last so hemmed me in, so nipped and pinched me, that I was glad to 
 hear them calling to surrender. I surrendered instantly and wholly ; 
 ■whereupon an ant of respectable stature approached me with courtesy, 
 nay, witli reverence, and even recommended itself to my good graces. 
 I learned that the ants had now become allies of my father-in-law, 
 and by him been called out in the present emergency, and commis- 
 sioned to fetch me back. Here, then, was little I in the hands of 
 creatures still less. I had nothing for it but looking forward to the 
 marriage; nay, I must now thank Heaven, if my father-in-law were 
 not wroth, if my fair one had not taken the sullens. 
 
 " Let me skip over the whole train of ceremonies : in a word, we 
 were wedded. Gayly and joyously as matters went, there were never- 
 theless solitary hours, in which you were led astray into reflection ; 
 and now there happened to me something which had never happened 
 before : what, and how, you shall learn. 
 
 " Everything about me was completely adapted to my present form 
 and wants ; the bottles and glasses were in a fit ratio to a little toper, 
 nay, if you will, better measure, in proportion, than with us. In my 
 tiny palate, the dainty titbits tasted excellently ; a kiss from the little 
 mouth of my spouse was still the most charming thing in nature ; 
 and 1 will not deny that novelty made all these circumstances highly 
 agreeable. Unhappily, however, I liad not forgotten my former 
 situation. I felt within me a scale of bygone greatness ; and it 
 rendered me restless and cheerless. Now, for the first time, did I 
 understand what the philosophers might mean by their ideal, which 
 they say so plagues the mind of man. I had an ideal of myself ; and 
 often in dreams 1 appeared as a giant. In short, my wife, my ring, 
 my dwarf figure, and so many otlier bonds and restrictions, made me 
 utterly unhappy ; so that I began to think seriously about obtaining 
 my deliverance. 
 
 " Being persuaded that the whole magic lay in the ring, I resolved 
 on filing this asunder. From the court-jeweler, accordingly, I 
 borrowed some files. By good luck, I was left-handed, as indeed, 
 throughout my whole life, I had never done aught in the right-handed 
 way. I stood tightly to the worl: : it was not small ; for the golden 
 hoop, so thin as it appeared, had grown proportionably thicker in
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL '"lO:; 
 
 contracting from its former length. All vacant hours I privately ap- 
 plied to this task ; and at last, the metal being nearly through, 1 was 
 provident enough to step out of doors. This was a wise measure ; 
 for all at once the golden hoop started sharply from my finger, and 
 my frame shot aloft with such violence, that I actually fancied I 
 should dash against the sky ; and, at all events, I must have bolted 
 througli the dome of our palace ; nay, perhaps, in my new awkward- 
 ness, liave destroyed this suuimer-residence altogether. 
 
 "llere, then, was I standing again ; in truth, so much the larger, 
 but also, as it seemed to me, so much the more foolish and helpless. 
 On recovering from my stupefaction, I observed the royal strong-box 
 l\ing near me, which! found to be moderately heavy, as I lifted it, 
 and carried it down the footpath to the next stage ; where I directly 
 ordered horses, and set forth. By the road, J soon made trial of -the 
 two side- pouches. Instead of money, which appeared to be run out, 
 I found a little key : it belonged to the strong-box, in which I got 
 some moderate con'ipensation. So long as this held out, I made use 
 of the carriage • by and by 1 sold it, and proceeded by the diligence. 
 The strong-box too I at length cast from me, having no hope of its 
 ever filling again. And thus in the end, tliough after a considerable 
 circuit, I again returned to the kitchen-hearth, to the landlady and 
 the cook, where you were first introduced to me." 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Leijardo was overwhelmed with business, his writing-office in the 
 greatest activity ; clerks and secretaries finding no moment's rest ; 
 while Wilhelm and Friedrich, strolling over field and meadow, were 
 entertaining each other with tlie most pleasant conversation. 
 
 And here, first of all, as necessarily happens between friends meet- 
 ing after some separation, the question was started : Plow far they 
 had altered in the interim ? Friedrich would have it that Wilhelm 
 was exactly the same as before : to Wilhelm again it seemed that 
 his young friend, though no whit abated in mirth and discursive- 
 ness, was somewhat more staid in his manner. " It were pity," 
 interrupted Friedrich, "if the father of three children, the husband 
 of an exemplary matron, had not likewise gained a little in dignity of 
 bearing." 
 
 Now, also, it came to light, that all the persons whom we got ac- 
 quainted with in the " Apprenticeship " were still living and well; nay, , 
 better than before ; being now in full and decisive activity ; each, in 
 his own way, associated with many fellow-laborers, and striving J;o- 
 wards the noblest aim. Of this, however, it is not for the present
 
 r,6sj MEIStER'S TBAVELB. 
 
 permitted us to impart any more precise information ; as, in a little 
 book like ours, reserve and secrecy may be no unseemly qualities. 
 
 But whatever, in the course of this confidential conversation, trans- 
 pired respecting the society in which we now are, as their more inti- 
 mate relations, maxims and objects, by little and little, came to view, 
 it is our duty and opportunity to disclose in this place. 
 
 " The whim of emigration," such was the substance of Friedrich's 
 talk on this matter, " the whim of emigration may, in straitened and 
 painful circumstances, very naturally lay hold of men ; if particular 
 cases chance to be favored by a happy issue, this whim will, in the 
 general mind, rise to the rank of passion ; as we have seen, as we 
 still see, and withal cannot deny that we, in our time, have been 
 befooled by such a delusion ourselves. 
 
 " Emigration takes place in the treacherous hope of an improve- 
 ment in our circumstances ; and it is too often counterbalanced by a 
 subsequent emigration ; since, go where you may, you still find your- 
 self in a conditional world, and if not constrained to a new emigra- 
 tion, are yet inclined in secret to cherish such a desire. 
 
 " We have therefore bound ourselves to renounce all emigration, 
 and to devote ourselves to migration. Here one does not turn his 
 back on liis native country forever ; but hopes, even after the greatest 
 circuit, to arrive there ugain, richer, wiser, cleverer, better, and what- 
 ever else such a way of life can make him. Now, in society, all 
 things are easier, more certain in their accomplishment, than to an 
 individual ; in which sense, my friend, consider what thou shalt 
 observe here ; for whatever thou mayest see, all and every part of it 
 is meant to forward a great movable connection among active and 
 sufficient men of all classes. 
 
 " But as where men are, manners are too, I may explain thus much 
 of our constitution by way of preliminary : When two of our number 
 anywhere by accident meet, they conduct themselves towards each 
 other according to their rank and fashion, according to custom of 
 handicraft or art, or by some other such mode adapted to their mutual 
 relations. Three meeting together are considered as' a unity, which 
 governs itself ; but if a fourth join them, they instantly elect the 
 Bond, one chief and three subjects. This Bond, however many more 
 combine with them, can still only be a single new-elected person; 
 for, in the great as in thd small scale, coregents are found to be 
 mutually obstructive. 
 
 " Thou mayest observe that Lenardo unites, in this way, more than 
 a hundred active and al)le men ; unites, employs, calls home, sends 
 forth ; as to-morrow, an important day with us, thou wilt perceive 
 and understand. Thou wilt then see the Bond dissolved ; the multi- 
 tude divided into smaller societies, and the Bond multiplied ; all the 
 rest will at the same time become clear to thee. 
 
 "But, for the present, I invite thee to a short bout of reading. 
 Here, under the shadow of these whispering trees, by the side of this
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 567 
 
 still flowing water, let us peruse a story, .this little paper, -wliicli 
 Lenardo, from the rich treasures of his collection, has intrusted to 
 me ; tliat so both of us may see thoroughly what a difference there is 
 between a. mad pilgrimage, such as many lead in the world, and a 
 well-meditated.7happily-commenced undertaking like ours, of which 
 I shallat this time say no more in praise." 
 
 The quaint, fitful and most dainty story of "The Foolish _Pil- 
 grimess," with which our two friends now occupied their morning, 
 we feel ourselves constrained, not unreluctantly, by certain grave 
 calculations, to reserve for some future and better season. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Lenardo having freed himself from business for an hour, took 
 dinner with his friends ; and at table he began to explain to them his 
 family circumstances. His elde.st sister was married. A rich brotlier- 
 in-law, to the great satisfaction of the uncle, had undertaken the man- 
 agement of all the estates ; with him Valerina's husband w^as stoutly 
 co-operating ; they were laboring on the great scale ; strengthening 
 their enterprises by connection with distant countries and places. 
 
 Here likewise our oldest friends once more malce their appearance ; 
 Lothario, Werner, the abb6, are on their side proceeding in the high- 
 est diligence, while Jarno occupies himself with mining. A general 
 insurance has been instituted ; we discern a vast property in land ; 
 and on this depends the existence of a large wandering society, the 
 individual members of which, uncier the condition of the greatest 
 possible usefulness, are recommended to all the world, are forwarded 
 in every undertaking, and secured against all mischances ; while 
 they again, as scattered colonists, may be supposed to react on their 
 mother country with favorable influences. 
 
 Throughout all this we observe Lenardo recognized as the wander- 
 ing Bond ; in smaller and greater combinations, he, for most part, is 
 elected : on him is placed the most unrestricted confidence. 
 
 So far had the disclosure, parth' from Lenardo, partly from Fried- 
 rich, proceeded without let, when both of them on a sudden became 
 silent, each seeming to have scruples about communicating more. 
 After a short pause, Wilhelm addressed them, and cried: "What 
 new secret again suddenly overshadows the friendliest explanation ? 
 Will you again leave me in the lurch? " 
 
 " Not at ail !" exclaimed Friedrich. " Do but hear me ! He has 
 found the nut-brown maid ; and for her sake " 
 
 " Not for lier sake," interrupted Lenardo. 
 
 " And just for her sake !" persisted Friedrich. " Do not deceive
 
 568 MEISTEB'S TRAVELS. 
 
 yourself : for lier sake you are changing yourself into a lawful vaga- 
 bond ; as some others of us, not, iu truth, for the most praiseworthy 
 purposes, have in times past changed ourselves into lawless va- 
 grants." 
 
 " Let us go along calmly," said Lenardo. " Our friend here must 
 be made acquainted with the state of our affairs ; but, in the first 
 place, let hiui liave a little touch of discipline for himself. You had 
 found the nut-brown maid ; but to me you refused the knowledge of 
 her abode. For this I will not blame you ; but what good did it do? 
 To discover this secret I was passionately incited ; and, notwith- 
 standing your sagacious caution, I at length came upon the right 
 trace. You have seen the good maiden yourself ; her circumstances 
 you have accurately investigated ; and yet you did not judge them 
 rightly. It is only the loving who feels and discovers what the 
 beloved wishes and wants ; he can read it in her from her deepest 
 heart. Let this at present suffice ; for explanation we have no time 
 left to-day. To-morrow I have the hottest press of business to front : 
 next day we part. But for your information, composure and partici- 
 pating interest, accept this copy of a week from my journal : it is 
 the best legacy which I can leave you. By reading it, you will not 
 indeed become wiser than vyou are and than I am ; but let this for 
 the present suffice. The nearest future, or a more remote one, will 
 arrange and direct ; that is to say, in this case, as in so many others, 
 we know not what is to become of us." 
 
 By way of dessert, Lenardo received a packet, at the opening of 
 which he, with some tokens of surprise, handed a letter to Wilhelm. 
 "What secrets, what speedy concerns can sister Hersilia have with 
 our friend? ' To be delivered instantly, and opened privately, with- 
 out the presence of any one, fdend or stranger ! ' Let us give him 
 all possible convenience, Friedrich ; let us withdraw !^' Wilhelm 
 hastily broke open the sheet and road : 
 
 HERSILIA TO WILHELM. 
 
 Wherever this letter may reach you, my noble friend, to a certainty 
 it will find you in some nook, where you are striving in vain to hide 
 from yourself. By nuiking you acquainted with my two fair dames 
 I have done you a sorry service. 
 
 But wherever you may be lurking, and doubtless it will search you 
 out, my promise is, that if, after reading this letter, you do not forth- 
 witit leap from your seat, and, like a pious pilgrim, appear in my 
 presence without delay, I must declare yoti to be the manliest of all 
 men ; that is to say, the one most completely void of the finest prop- 
 erty belonging to our sex ; I mean curiosity, which at this moment is 
 afflicting me in its sharpest concentration. 
 
 In one word, then, your casket has now got its key ; this, however, 
 none but you and I are to know. How it came into my hands, let me 
 now tell you.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 569 
 
 Some days ago, our man of law gets dispatclies from a distant tri- 
 bunal ; wlierein lie was asked if, at such and such a time, there had 
 not been a boy prowling about our neighborhood, who had played all 
 manner of tricks, and at length, in a rasli enterprise, lost his jacket. 
 
 By the way this brat was described, no doubt remained with us but 
 he was Fitz ; the gay comrade whom Felix talked so much of, and so 
 gften wished back to play with him. 
 
 Now, for the present, those authorities request that said article of 
 dress may be sent to tliem, if it is still in existence ; as the boy, at last 
 involved in judicial examinations, refers to it. Of this demand our 
 lawyer chances to make mention ; lie shows us the little frock before 
 sending it ofE. 
 
 Some good or evil spirit whispers me to grope the breast-pocket ; a 
 little angular prickly something comes into my hand ; I, so timorous, 
 ticklish and startlish as I usually am, clench my hand, clench it, hold 
 my peace, and the jerkin is sent away. Directly, of all feelings, the 
 strangest seizes me. At the fir.st stolen glance, 1 saw, I guessed tliat 
 it was the key of your little box. And now came wondrous scruples 
 of conscience, and all sorts of moral doubts. To discover, to give back 
 my windfall, was impossible ; what have those long- wigged judges to 
 do with it, when it may be so useful to my friend ! And then, again, 
 all manner of questions about right and'duty begin lifting up their 
 voices ; but I would not let them outvote me. 
 
 From this you perceive into what a situation my friendship for you 
 has reduced me : a choice faculty develops itself, all on a sudden, for 
 your sake ; what an occurrence ! May it not be something more than 
 friendship that so holds tlie balance of my conscience? Between guilt 
 and curiosity 1 am wonderfully discomposed ; I have a hundred whims 
 and stories about what may follow ; law and judgment will not be 
 trifled with. Hersilia, the careless, and as occasion served, capricious 
 Hersilia, ent?.ngled in a criminal process, for this is the scope and ten- 
 dency of \\*. And what can I do, but think of the friend for whose 
 sake I suffer all this? I thought of you before, yet with pauses ; but 
 how I think of you incessantly; now when my heart throbs, and I 
 think of the eightli commandment, I must turn to you, as to the saint, 
 who has caused this sin, and will also procure me an absolution ; thus 
 the opening of the casket is the only thing that can compose me. My 
 curiosity is growing stronger and doubly strong : come and bring the 
 casket with you ! To what judgment-seat it properly belongs we 
 will make out between us ; till then let it remain between us ; no 
 one must know of it, be who he will. 
 
 Friedrich returned more gay and lively than he had gone : " Good 
 news !" cried he : "good luck I Lenardo has received some pretty 
 letters, to facilitate the parting ; credit more than sufficient ; and 
 thou too shalt have thy share in it. Fortune lier.self surely knows 
 not what she is about ; for once in her time she has done wise worthy 
 fellows a favor."
 
 570 MEISTEB'S TRAVELS. 
 
 Hereupon lie banded to his friend some clipped fragments of maps, 
 with directions where they were to be produced, and changed for 
 hard cash or bills, as he might choose. Wilhelm was obliged to ac- 
 cept them, though he kept assuring his companion, that for the pres- 
 ent he had no need of such things. "Then others will need them !" 
 cried Fried rich : "constrain not thy good feelings; and wherever 
 thou art, appear'as a benefactor. But now come along, let us have 
 a look at this manuscript : it is long till night ; one tires of talking 
 and listening, so I have begged some writing for our entertainment. 
 Every leaf in Leuardo's archives is penned in the spirit of the whole ; 
 in giving me this he said : 'Well, take it, and read it ; our friend 
 will acquire more confidence in our society and bond, the more good 
 members he becomes acquainted with.'" The two then retired to a 
 cheerful spot ; and Fried rich read, enlivening with much natural en- 
 ergy and mirth what he found set down for him. 
 
 WHO CAN THE TRAITOR BE? 
 
 " No ! no ! " exclaimed he, violently and hastily rushing into the 
 chamber allotted him, and setting down his candle : " No ! it is im- 
 possible ! But whither shall I turn ? For the first time, I think 
 otherwise than he ; for the first time, I feel, I wish otherwise. 
 
 father ! couldst thou but be present invisibly, couldst thou but 
 look through and through me, thou wouldst see that I am still the 
 same, still thy true, obedient, affectionate son. Yet to say no ! To 
 contradict my fatlier's dearest, long cherished wish ! How shall I 
 disclose it? How shall I express it? No, I cannot marry Jnlia ! 
 While I speak of it, I shudder. And how shall I appear before 
 him, tell him this, him the good, kind father? He looks at me 
 with astonishment, without speaking : the prudent, clear-sighted, 
 gifted man can find no words. Woe is me ! Ah, I know well to 
 whom I would confide this pain, this perplexity ; who n is 1 would 
 choose for my advocate ! Before all others, thou, Lucinda ! And 
 
 1 would first tell thee how I love thee, how I give myself to thee, 
 and pressingly entreat thee to speak for me ; and if thou canst love 
 me again, if thou wilt be mine, to speak for us both." 
 
 To explain this short pithy monologue will require some details. 
 
 Professor N. of N. had an only boy of singular beauty, whom, till 
 the child's eighth year, he had left entirely in charge of his wife. 
 This excellent woman had directed the hours and days of her son, in 
 living, learning and all good behavior. She died ; and the father 
 instantly felt, that to prosecute this parental tutelage was impossible. 
 In their lifetime, all had been harmony between the parents ; they 
 had labored for a common aim, had determined in concert what was 
 next to be done ; and the mother had not wanted skill to execute 
 wisely, by herself, what the two had jjlanned together. Double and 
 treble was now the widower's anxiety, seeing, as he could not but
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 571 
 
 daily see, that for the sons of professors, even in universities, it was 
 only by a sort of miracle that a happy education could be expected. 
 
 In this strait he applied to his friend the oberauitmann of R. , 
 with whom he had already been treating of plans for a closer alli- 
 ance between their families. The oberamtmaun gave him counsel 
 and assistance ; so the son was established in one of those institu- 
 tions, which still flourish in Germany, and where charge is taken of 
 the whole man, and body, soul and spirit are trained with all atten- 
 tion. 
 
 The son was thus provided for ; the father, however, felt himself 
 very lonely : robbed of his wife ; shut out from the cheerful pres- 
 ence of the boy, whom he had seen, without effort of his, growing 
 up in such desirable culture. But here again the friendship of the 
 oberamtmaun served him in good stead ; the distance of their abodes 
 vanished before his affection, his desire for movement, for diversion 
 of thought. In this hospitable home the widowed man of letters 
 found, in a family-circle motherless like his own, two beautiful little 
 daughters growing up in diverse loveliness ; a state of things which 
 more and more contirnied the fathers in their purpose, in their hope, 
 of one day seeing their families united in the most joyful bonds. 
 
 They lived under the swaj- of a mild good prince : the meritorious 
 oberamtmaun vvas certain of his post difriug life-; and in the ap- 
 pointment of a successor his recommendation was likely to go far. 
 And now, according to the wise family arrangement, sanctioned also 
 by the minister, Lucidor was to train himself for the important office 
 of his future father-in-law. This in consequence he did from step to 
 step. Nothing was neglected in communicating to him all sorts of 
 knowledge, in developing in him all sorts of activity, which the state 
 in any case requires : practice in rigorous judicial law ; and also in 
 the laxer fort, where prudence and address find their proper field ; 
 foresight for daily ways and means ; not excluding higher and more 
 comprehensJ\-e views, yet all tending towards practical life, and so 
 as with effect and certainty to be employed in its concerns. 
 
 With such purposes had Lucidor spent his school-years : by his 
 father and his patron, he was now warned to make ready for the uni- 
 versity. In all departments he had already showed the fairest talents ; 
 and to nature he was farther indebted for the singular happiness of 
 inclining, out of love for his father, out of respect for his friend, to 
 turn his capabilities, first from obedience, then from conviction, on 
 that very object to which he was directed. He was placed in a for- 
 eign universit}" ; and here, both by his own account in his letters, 
 and by the testimony of his teacliprs and overseers, he continued 
 walking in the path that led towards his appointed goal. It was only 
 objected to him, that in certain cases he had been too impetuously 
 brave. The father shook his head at this ; the oberamtmann nodded. 
 Who would not have been proud of such a son ? 
 
 Meanwhile, the two daughters, Julia and Lucinda, were waxing
 
 572 MEI8TEB' 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 in stature and graces. Julia, the younger, waggish, lovely, unstable, 
 highly entertaining ; the other difficult to portray, for in her sincerity 
 and purity she represented all that we prize most in woman. Visits 
 were paid and repaid ; and in the professor's house, Julia found the 
 most inexhaustible amusement. 
 
 Geography, which he failed not to enliven by topography, belonged 
 to his province ; and no sooner did Julia cast her eyes on any of the 
 volumes, of which a whole series from Homann's warehouse were 
 standing there, than the cities all and sundry had to be mustered, 
 judged, preferred or rejected ; all havens especially obtained her 
 favor ; other towns, to acquire even a slight approval from her, must 
 stand forth well supplied with steeples, domes and minarets. 
 
 Julia's father often left her for weeks to the care of this tried friend. 
 She was actually advancing in knowledge of her science ; and already 
 the inhabited world, in its main features, in its chief points and places, 
 stood before her with some accuracy and distinctness. The garbs of 
 foreign nations attracted her peculiar attention ; and often when her 
 foster-father asked her in jest ; if among the many young handsome 
 men who were passing to and fro before her window, there was not 
 some one or other whom she liked ? she would answer : " Yes, indeed, 
 if he do but look odd enough." And as our young students are sel- 
 dom behindhand in this particular, she had often occasion to take 
 notice of individuals among them : they brought to her mind the cos- 
 tume of foreign nations ; however, she declared in the end, that if 
 she was to bestow her undivided attention on any one, he must be at 
 least a Greek, equipped in the complete fashion of his country ; on 
 which account, also, she longed to be at some Leij)zig fair, where, as 
 she understood, such persons were to be seen walking the streets. 
 
 After his dry and often irksome labors, our teacher had now no 
 happier moments than those he spent in mirthfully instructing her ; 
 triumphing withal, in secret, that a being so attractive, ever enter- 
 taining, ever entertained, was in the end to be his own daughter. For 
 the rest, the two fathers had mutually agreed, that no hint of their 
 purpose should be communicated to the girls ; from Lucidor, also, it 
 was kept secret. 
 
 Thus years had passed away, as indeed they very lightly pass ; 
 Lucidor presented himself completed, having stood all trials to the joy 
 even of the superior overseers, who wished nothing more lieartily 
 than being able, with a good conscience, to fulfill the hopes of old, 
 worthy, favored and deserving servants. 
 
 And so the business had at length by quite regular steps come so 
 far, that Lucidor, after having demeaned himself in subordinate sta- 
 tions to universal satisfaction, was now to be placed in a very advan- 
 tageous post, suitable to his wishes and merits, and lying just midway 
 between the univei'sity and the oberamtmannship. 
 
 The father now spoke with his son about Julia, of whom he had 
 Jiitherto only hinted, as about his bride and wife, without any doubt
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 573 
 
 or condition ; congratulating liira on the happiness of having appro- 
 priated such a jewel to himself. The professor saw in fancy his 
 daughter-in-law again from time to time in his house ; occupied with 
 charts, plans and views of cities : the sou called to mind the gay and 
 most lovely creature, who, in times of childhood, had, hy her rogueries 
 as by her kindliuess, always delighted him. Lucidor was now tf) ride 
 over to the oberamtmann's, to talve a closer view of the full-grown 
 fair one ; and, for a few weeks, to surrender himself to the habitudes 
 and familiarity of her household. If the young people, as was to be 
 hoped, should speedily agree, the professor was fort li with to appear, 
 that so solemn a betrothment might forever secure the anticipated 
 happiness. 
 
 Lucidor arrives, is received with the friendliest welcome, a chamber 
 is allotted him ; he arranges himself there, and appears. And now 
 he finds, besides the members of the family already known to us, a 
 grown-up son ; misbred certainly, yet shrewd and good-natured ; so 
 that if you liked to take him as the jesting counselor of the party, 
 he fitted not ill with the rest. There belonged, moreover, to the 
 house, a very old, but healthy and gay-hearted man ; quiet," wise, dis- 
 creet ; completing his life, as it were, and here and there requiring 
 a little help. Directly after Lucidor, too, there had arrived another 
 stranger ; no longer young, of an impressive aspect, dignified, thor- 
 oughly well-bred, and, by his acquaintance with the most dis- 
 tant quarters of the world, extremely entertaining. He was called 
 Antoni. 
 
 Julia received her announced bridegroom in fit order, yet with an 
 excess rather than a defect of frankness : Lucinda, on the other hand, 
 did the honors of the house, as her sister did those of herself. So 
 passed the day ; peculiarly agreeable to all, only to Lucidor not/f ne, 
 at all times silent, had been forced, that he might avoid sinking dumb 
 entirel}-, to employ himself in^ asking questions ; and in this attitude 
 no one appears to advantage, i 
 
 Througliout he had beeu'aTSsent-minded ; for at the first glance he 
 had felt, not aversion or repugnance, yet estrangement, towards i 
 Julia ; Lucinda, on the contrary, attracted him, so that he trembled \ 
 every time she looked at him with her full pure peaceful eyes. 
 
 Thus hard bested, he reached his chamber the first night, and gave 
 vent to his heart in that soliloquy with which we began. But to ex- 
 plain this sufficiently, to show how the violence of such an emphatic 
 speech agrees with what we know of him already, another little state- 
 ment will be necessary. 
 
 Lucidor was of a deep character ; and for most part had something 
 else in his mind thau what the present scene required ; hence talk 
 and social conversation would never prosper rightly with him ; he 
 felt this, and was wont to continue silent, except when the topic hap- 
 pened to be particular, on some department which he had completely 
 studied, and of which whatever he needed was at all times ready.
 
 574 ' MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 Besides tins, in Lis early years at scliool, and later at the university, 
 he had been deceived in friends, and had wasted the effusions of his 
 heart unhappily ; hence every communication of his feelings seemed 
 to him a doubtful step, and doubting destroys all such communica- 
 tion. With his father he was used to speak only in unison ; there- 
 fore his full heart poured itself out in monologues, so soon as he 
 was by himself. 
 
 Next morning he had summoned up his resolution ; and yet he 
 almost lost heart and composure again, when Julia met him Avith still 
 more friendliness, gayety and frankness than ever. She had much 
 to ask ; about his journeys by land and journeys by water ; how, 
 when a student, with his knapsack on his back, he had roamed and 
 climbed through Switzerland, nay, crossed the Alps themselves. 
 And now of those fair islands on the great southern lake she had 
 much to say ; and then backwards, the Rhine must be accompanied 
 from his primary origin ; at first, through most undelicious regions, 
 and so downwards through many ah alternation, till at length, be- 
 tween Maynz and Coblenz, you find it still worth while respectfully 
 to dismiss the old river from his last confinement, into the wide world, 
 into the sea. 
 
 Lucidor, in the course of this recital, felt himself much lightened 
 in heart ; he narrated willingly and well, so that Julia at last ex- 
 claimed in rapture : " Tt is thus that our other self should be !" At 
 which phrase Lucidor again felt startled and frightened ; thinking 
 he saw in it an allusion to their future pilgrimage in common through 
 life. 
 
 From his narrative duty, however, he was soon relieved ; for the 
 stranger, Antoni, very speedily overshadowed all mountain streams, 
 and rocky banks and rivers, w^hether hemmed in or left at liberty. 
 Under his guidance you now went forward to Genoa ; Livorno lay at 
 no great distance ; whatever was most interesting in the country you 
 took with you as fair spoil ; Naples, too, was a place you should see 
 before you die ; and then, in truth, remained Constantinople, which 
 also was by no means to be neglected. Antoni's descriptions of the 
 wide world carried the imagination of every hearer along with him, 
 though Antoni himself introduced little fire into the subject. Julia, 
 quite enraptured, was .still nowise satisfied : she longed for Alexan- 
 dria, Cairo, and above all, for the Pyramids ; of which, by the lessons 
 of her intended father-in-law, she had gained some moderate knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 Lucidor next night (he had scarcely shut his door ; the candle he 
 had not put doAvn) exclaimed : " Now bethink thee, then ; it is grow- 
 ing serious ! Thou ha.st studied and meditated many serious things : 
 what avails thy law-learning, if thou canst not act like a man of law? 
 View thyself as a delegate, forget thy o\yn feelings, and do what it 
 would behoove thee to do for another. It thickens and closes round 
 me horribly ? The stranger is plainly come for the sake of Lucinda ;
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 575 
 
 she sliows him the fairest, noblest social and hospitable attentions : 
 that little fool would run through the world with any one for any- 
 thing or nothing. Besides, she is a wag ; her interest in cities and 
 countries is a farce, by which she keeps us in silence. But why do 
 I look at the affair so perplexedly, so narrowly ? Is not the oberamt- 
 inann himself the most judicious, the clearest, the kindest mediator? 
 Thou wilt tell him how thou feelest and thinkest ; and he will think 
 with thee, if not likewise feel. With thy father he has all influence. 
 And is not the one as well as the other his daughter? What would 
 this Antoni the traveler with Lucinda, who ^^ born for home, to be 
 happy and to make happy? Let the wavering quicksilver fasten 
 itself to the Wandering Jew ; that will be a right match." 
 
 Next morning Lucidor came down, with the firm purpose of speak- 
 ing with the father ; and waiting on him expressly to that end, at 
 the hour when he knew him to be disengaged. How great was his 
 vexation, his perplexity, on learning that the oberamtmann had been 
 called away on business, and was not expected till the day after 
 the morrow I Julia, on this occasion, seemed to be expressly in 
 her traveling fit ; she kept by the world-wanderer, and, with some 
 sportive hits at domestic economy, gave up Lucidor to Lucinda. 
 If our friend, viewing this noble maiden from a certain distance, 
 and under one general impression, had already, with his whole 
 heart, loved her, he failed not now in this nearest nearness to dis- 
 cover with double and treble vividness in detail, all that had before 
 as a whole attracted him. 
 
 The good old friend of the family now brought himself forward, 
 in place of the absent father ; he too had lived, had loved ; and was 
 now, after many hard buffetings and bruises of life, resting at last, 
 refreshed and cheerful, beside the friend of his youth. He enlivened 
 the conversation ; and especially expatiated on perplexities in choice 
 of wives ; relating several remarkable examples of explanations, both 
 in time and too late. Lucinda appeared in all her splendor. She 
 admitted that accident, in all departments of life, and so likewise in 
 the business of marriage, often produced the best result ; yet that it 
 was finer a^id prouder when one could say he owed his happiness to 
 himself, to the silent calm conviction of his heart, to a noble purpo.se 
 and a quick determination. Tears stood in Lucidor's eyes as he ap- 
 plauded this sentiment : directly afterwards, the two ladies went out. 
 The old president liked well to deal in illustrative histories ; and so 
 the conversation expanded itself into details of pleasant instances, 
 which, however, touched our hero so closely, that none but a youth 
 of as delicate manners as his could have refrained from breaking out 
 with his secret. He did break out, so soon as he was by himself. 
 
 '• I have constrained myself I " exclaimed he : " with such perplex- 
 ities I will not vex my good father : I have forborne to speak ; for I 
 see in this worthy old man the substitute of both fathers. To him 
 will I speak ; to him disclose the 'whole ; he will surely bring it
 
 576 MEI8TEB' 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 about ; he lias already almost, spoken wliat I wisli. Will lie censure 
 in the individual case what he praises in general ? To-morrow I visit 
 him ; I must give vent to this oppression," 
 
 At breakfast the old man was not present ; last night he had spoken, 
 it appeared, too much ; had sat too long, and likewise drunk a drop 
 or two of wine beyond his custom. Much was said in his praise ; 
 many anecdotes were related ; and precisely of such sayings and 
 doings as brought Lucidor to despair for not having forthwith applied 
 to him. This unpleasant feeling was but aggravated, when he learned 
 that in such attacks of disorder the good old man would often not 
 make1>is reappearance for a week. 
 
 For social converse a country residence has many advantages, espe- 
 cially when the owners of it have, for a course of years, been induced, 
 as thinking or feeling persons, to improve the natural capabilities of 
 their environs. Such had been the good fortune of this spot. The 
 oberamtmann, at first unwedded, then in a long happy marriage, him- 
 self a man of fortune, and occupying a lucrative post, had, according 
 to the taste of his wife, nay, at last, according to the wishes and whims 
 of his children, laid out and forwarded many larger and smaller deco- 
 rations ; which, by degrees, being skillfully connected with planta- 
 tions and paths, affordqd to the promenader a very beautiful, continu- 
 ally varying, characteristic series of scenes. A pilgrimage through 
 these, our young hosts now proposed to their guests ; as in general 
 we take pleasure in showing our improvements to a stranger, that so 
 what has become habitual in our eyes may appear with the charm of 
 novelty in his, and leave with him, in permanent remembrance, its 
 fir.st favorable impression. 
 
 Tlie nearest, as well as the most distant part of the grounds, was 
 peculiarly appropriate for modest decorations, and altogether rural 
 individualities. Fertile hills alternated with well-watered meadows, 
 so that the Avhole was visible from time to time, without being flat ; 
 and if the land seemed chiefly devoted to purposes of utility, the 
 graceful, the attractive, was by no means excluded. 
 
 To the dwelling and office-houses were united various gardens, orch- 
 ards and green spaces ; out of which you imperceptibly passed into 
 a little wood, with a broad, clear carriage road winding up and down 
 through the midst of it. Plere, in a central spot, on the most consid- 
 erable elevation, there had been a hall erected, with side-chambers 
 entering from it. On coming through the main door, you .saw in a 
 large mirror the most favorable prospect which the country afforded ; 
 and were sure to turn round that instant, to recover yourself on the 
 reality from the effect of this its unexpected image ; for the approach 
 was artfully enough contrived, and all that could excite surprise was 
 carefully hid till the last moment. No one entered but felt himself 
 pleasurably tempted to turn from the mirror to nature, and from na- 
 ture to the mirror. 
 
 Once in motion in this fairest, brightest, longest day, our party
 
 OHAPTER XIX. ST: 
 
 made a spiritual campaign of it, over and through the whole. Here 
 the daughters pointed out the evening seat of their good mother, 
 where a stately box-tree had kept clear space all round it. A little 
 farther on, Lucinda's place of morning prayer was half-roguislily ex- 
 hibited by Julia : close to a little brook, between poplars and alders, 
 with meadows sloping down from it, and fields stretching upwards, 
 it was indescribably pretty. You thought you had seen such a spot 
 everywhere, but nowhere so impressive and so perfect in its simplic- 
 ity. In return for this, the young master, also half against Julia's 
 will, pointed out the tiny groves and child's gardens, which, close by 
 a snug-lying mill, were now scarcely discernible ; they dated from a 
 time when Julia, perhaps in her tenth year, had taken it into her 
 head to become a milleress ; intending, after the decease of the two 
 old occupants, to assume the management herself, and choose some 
 brave millman for her husband. 
 
 " That was at a time," cried Julia, " when I knew nothing of towns 
 lying on rivers, or even on the sea ; nothing of Genoa, of Naples and 
 the like. Your worthy father, Lucidor, has converted me ; of late I 
 come seldom hither." She sat down with a roguish air, on a little 
 bench, that now was scarcely large enough for her ; under an elder 
 bough, which had bent deeply towards the ground. "Fie on this 
 cowering ! " cried she ; then started up, and ran off with her gay 
 brother. 
 
 The remaining pair kept up a rational conversation ; and in these 
 cases reason approaches close to the borders of feeling. Wandering 
 over changeful, simple natural objects, to contemplate at leisui'e how 
 cunning scheming man contrives to gain some profit from them ; how i 
 his perception of what is laid before him, combining with the feeling I 
 of his wants, does wonders, first in rendering the world inhabitable, 
 then in peopling it, and at last in overpeopling it ; all this could here 
 be talked of in detail. Lucinda gave account of everything ; and, mod- 
 est as she was, she could not hide that these pleasant and convenient 
 combinations of distant parts by roads,- had been her work, under the 
 proposal, direction, or favor of her revered mother. 
 
 But as the longest day at last bends down to evening, our party 
 were at last forced to think of returning ; and while devising some 
 pleasant circuit, the merry brother proposed that they should take 
 the short road, though it commanded no fine prospects, and was even 
 in some places more difficult to get over. " For," cried he, "you 
 have preached all day about your decorations and reparations, and 
 how you have improved and beautified the scene for pictorial eyes 
 and feeling hearts : let me also have my turn." 
 
 Accordingly they now set forth over plowed grounds, by coarse 
 paths, nay, sometimes picking their way by stepping-stones in boggy 
 places ; till at last they perceived, at some distance, a pile of machin- 
 ery towering up in manifold combination. More closely examined, 
 it turned out to be a large apparatus for sport and games, arranged 
 Meister— 19
 
 578 MEI8TER' 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 not witliout judgment, and in a certain popular spirit. Here, fixed 
 at suitable distances, stood a large swing-wlieel, on whicli the ascend- 
 ing and the descending riders might still sit horizontally and at their 
 ease ; other see-saws, swing-ropes, leaping-poles, bowling and nine- 
 pins coui'ses, and whatever can be fancied for variedly and equally 
 employing and diverting a crowd of people gathered on a large com- 
 mon. "This," cried he, "is my invention, my decoration! And 
 though my father found the money, and a shrewd fellow the brain 
 necessary for it, yet without me, whom you often call a person of no 
 judgment, money and brain would not have come together." 
 
 In this cheerful mood, the whole four reached home by sunset. 
 Antoni also joined them ; but the little Julia, not yet satisfied with 
 this unresting travel, ordered her coach, and set fortli on a visit to a 
 lady of her friends, in utter despair at not having seen her for two 
 days. The party left behind began to feel embarrassed before they 
 were aware ; it was even mentioned in words that the father's absence 
 distressed them. The conversation was about to stagnate, when all at 
 once the madcap sprang from his seat, and in a few moments returned 
 with a book, proposing to read to the company. Luciuda forbore not 
 to inquire how this notion had occurred to him, now for the first time 
 in a twelvemonth. " Everything occurs to me," said he, " at the pro- 
 per season ; this is more than you can say for yourself." He read 
 them a series of genuine antique tales : such as lead man away from 
 himself, flattering his wishes, and making him forget all those restric- 
 tions, between which, even in the happiest moments, we are still 
 hemmed in. 
 
 " What shall I do now ! " cried Lucidor, when at last he saw him- 
 self alone. " The hour presses on : in Antoni I have no trust ; he is 
 an utter stranger ; I know not who he is, how he comes to be here, 
 nor what he wants ; Lucinda seems to be his object, and if so, what 
 can I expect of him? Nothing remains for me but applying to 
 Lucinda herself ; she must know of it, she before all others. This 
 was my first feeling : why do we stray into side paths and subter- 
 fuges ? My first thought shall be my last, and I hope to reach my 
 aim. " 
 
 On Saturday morning, Lucidor, dressed at an early hour, was walk- 
 ing to and fro in his chamber ; thinking and conning over his pro- 
 jected address to Lucinda, when he heard a sort of jestful contention 
 before his door, and the door itself directly afterwards went up. The 
 mad younker was shoving in a boy before him, with coffee and baked 
 ware for the guest ; he himself carried cold meats and wine. ' ' Go 
 thou foremost," cried the younker, " for the guest must be first served ; 
 I am vised to serve myself. My friend, to-day I am entering somewhat 
 early and tumultuously, but let us take our breakfast in peace, then 
 we shall see what is to be done ; for of our company there is nothing 
 to be hoped. The little one is not yet back from her friend ; they 
 two have to pour out their hearts together every fortnight, otherwise
 
 CHAPTER XIX. . 579 
 
 the poor dear hearts would burst. On Saturdays, Lucinda is good for 
 nothing ; she balances her household accounts for my father ; she 
 would have had me taking share in the concern, but Heaven forbid ! 
 When 1 know the price of anything, no morsel of it can I relish. 
 Guests are expected to-morrow ; the old man has not yet got refitted ; 
 Antoni is gone to hunt, we will do the same." 
 
 Guns, pouches and dogs were ready, as our pair stepped down 
 into the court ; and now they set forth over field and hill, shooting 
 at best some leveret or so, and perhaps here and there a poor indif- 
 ferent undeserving bird. Meanwhile they kept talking of domestic 
 affairs, of the household and company at present assembled in it. 
 Antoni was mentioned, and Lucidor failed not to inquire more nar- 
 rowly about him. The gay younker, with some self-complaisance, 
 asserted, that strange as the man was, and much mystery as he made 
 about himself, he, the gay younker, had already seen through him 
 and through him. " Without doubt," continued he, " Antoni is the 
 son of a rich mercantile family, whose large partnership concern fell 
 to ruin at the very time when he, in the full vigor of youth, was 
 preparing to take a cheerful and active hand in their great under- 
 takings, and withal to share in their abundant profits. Dashed down 
 from the summit of his hopes, he gathered himself together, and 
 undertook to perform for strangers what he was no longer in a case 
 to perform for his relatives. And so he traveled through the world ; 
 became thoroughly acquainted with it and its mutual traffickings ; 
 in the meanwhile not forgetting his own advantage. Unwearied 
 diligence and tried fidelity obtained and secured for him unbounded 
 confidence from many. Thus in all places he acquired connections 
 and friends ; nay, it is easy to see that his fortune is as widely scat- 
 tered abroad as his acquaintance ; and accordingly his presence is 
 from time to time required in all quarters of the world." 
 
 These things the merry younker told in a more circumstantial and 
 simple style, introducing many farcical observations, as if he meant 
 to spin out his story to full length. 
 
 "How long, for instance," cried he, "has this Antoni been con- 
 nected with my father ! They think I see nothing, because I trouble 
 myself about nothing ; but for this very reason, I see it better, as I 
 take no interest in it. To my father he has intrusted large sums, 
 who again has deposited them securely and to advantage. It was 
 but last night that he gave our old dietetic friend a casket of jewels ; 
 a finer, simpler, costlier piece of, ware I never cast my eyes on, 
 though I saw this only with a single glance, for they.make a secret 
 of it. Most probably it is to be consigned to the bride for her pleas- 
 ure, satisfaction and future security. Antoni has set his heart on 
 Lucinda ! Yet when I see them together, I cannot think it a well- 
 assorted match. The hop-skip would have suited him better ; I be- 
 lieve, too, she would take him sooner than the elder would. Many 
 a time I see her looking over to the old curmudgeon, so gay and
 
 oSO MEI8TER 'S TRA VELS. 
 
 sympathetic, as if she could find in her heart to spring into the coach 
 witli him, and fly ofE at full gallop. " Lucidor collected himself : he 
 knew not what to answer ; all that he heard obtained his internal 
 approbation. The younker proceeded : "All along the girl has had 
 a perverted liking for old people : I believe, of a truth, she would 
 have skipped away and wedded your father, as briskly as she would 
 his son." 
 
 Lucidor followed his companion, over stock and stone, as it pleased 
 the gay youth to lead him : both forgot the chase, which at any rate 
 could not be productive. They called at a farm-house, where, being 
 hospitably received, the one friend entertained himself with eating, 
 drinking and tattling ; the other again plunged into meditations, and 
 projects for turning this new discovery to his own profit. 
 
 From all these narrations and disclosures, Lucidor had acquired so 
 much confidence in Antoni, that immediately on their return he asked 
 for him, and hastened into the garden, where he was said to be. In 
 vain ! No sonl was to be seen anywhere. At last he entered the 
 door of the great hall : and strange enough, the setting sun, reflected 
 from the mirror, so dazzled him, that he could not recognize the two 
 persons, Avho were sitting on the sofa ; though he saw distinctly that 
 it was a lady and a man, which latter was that instant warmly kiss- 
 ing the hand of his companion. How great, accordingly, was Lu- 
 cidor's astonishment, when, on recovering his clearness of vision, he 
 beheld Antoni sitting by Lucinda ! He was like to sink through the 
 ground : he stood, however, as if rooted to the spot ; till Lucinda, 
 in the kindest, most unembarrassed manner, shifted a little to a side, 
 and invited him to take a seat on her right hand. Unconsciously he 
 obeyed her, and while she addressed him, inquiring after his present 
 days history, asking pardon for her absence on domestic engage- 
 ments, he could scarcely hear her voice. Antoni rose, and took his 
 leave ; Lucinda, resting herself from her toil, as the others were 
 doing, invited Lucidor to a short stroll. Walking by her side, he 
 was silent and embarrassed ; she, too, seemed ill at ease : and had 
 he been in the slightest degree self-collected, her deep-drawn breath- 
 ing must have disclosed to him that she had heartfelt sighs to sup- 
 press. She at last took her leave, as they approached the house : he 
 on the other hand turned round at first slowly, then at a violent pace 
 to the open country. The park was too narrow for him ; he hastened 
 through the fields, listening only to the voice of his heart, and with- 
 out eyes for the beauties of this loveliest evening. When he found 
 himself alone, and his feelings were relieving their violence in a 
 shower of tears, he exclaimed : 
 
 " Already in my life, but never with such fierceness, have I felt 
 the agony which now makes me altogether wretched : to see the 
 long-wished-for happiness at length reach me ; hand-in-hand and 
 arm-in-arm unite with me ; and at the same moment announce its 
 eternal departure ! I was sitting by "her, I was walking by her ; her
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 581 
 
 fluttering garment touched me, and I have lost her I Reckon it not 
 over, torture not thy heart with it ; be silent, and determine ! " 
 
 He laid a prohibition on his lips ; he held his peace, and planned 
 and meditated, stepping over field and meadow and bush, not always 
 by the smoothest paths. Late at night, on returning to his chamber, 
 he gave voice to his thoughts for a moment, and cried : " To-morrow 
 morning I am gone ; another such day I will not front." 
 
 And so, without undressing, he threw himself on the bed. Happy, 
 healthy season of youth 1 He was already asleep : the fatiguing 
 motion of the day had earned for him the sweetest rest. Out of bright 
 morning dreams, however, the earliest sun awoke him : this was the 
 longest day in the year ; and for him it threatened to be too long. If 
 the grace of the peaceful evening star had passed over him unnoticed, he 
 felt the awakening beauty of the morning only to despair. The world 
 was lying here as glorious as ever ; to his eyes it was still so ; but his 
 soul contradicted it : all this belonged to him no longer ; he had lost 
 Lucinda. 
 
 His traveling-bag was soon packed ; this he was to leave behind 
 him ; he left no letter with it ; a verbal message in excuse of absence 
 from dinner, perhaps also from supper, might be left with the groom, 
 whom at any rate he must awaken. The groom, however, was awake 
 already. Lucidor found him in the yard, walking with large strides 
 before the stable-door. "You do not mean to ride ? " cried the usually 
 good-natured man, with a tone of some spleen. " To you I may say 
 it ; but young master is growing worse and worse. There was he 
 driving about far and near yesterday ; you might have thought he 
 would thank God for a Sunday to rest in. And see, if he does not 
 come this morning before daybreak, rummages about in the stable, 
 and while 1 am getting up, saddles and bridles your horse, flings him- 
 self on it and cries : ' Do but consider the good work I am doing ! 
 This beast keeps jogging on at a staid juridical trot, I must see and 
 rouse him into a smart life-gallop.' He said something just so, and 
 other strange speeches besides." 
 
 Lucidor was doubly and trebly vexed : he liked the horse as corres- 
 ponding to his own character, his own mode of life ; it grieved him 
 to figure this good sensible beast in the hands of a madcap. His plan, 
 too, was overturned ; his purpose of flying to a college friend, with 
 whom he had lived in cheerful, cordial union, and in this crisis seek- 
 ing refuge beside him. His old confidence had been awakened, the 
 intervening miles were not counted ; he had fancied himself already 
 at the side of his true-hearted and judicious friend, finding counsel 
 and assuagement from his words and looks. This prospect was now 
 cut off : yet not entirely, if he could venture with the fresh pedes- 
 trian limbs, which still stood at his command, to set forth towards 
 the goal. 
 
 First of all, accordingly, he struck through the park ; making for 
 the open country, and the road which was to lead him to his friend.
 
 582 MEI8TEB'S TRAVELS. 
 
 Of liis direction he was not quite certain, when looking to the left, 
 his eye fell upon the hermitage, which had hitherto been kept secret 
 from him ; a strange edifice, rising with grotesque joinery through 
 bush and tree : and here, to his extreme astonishment, he observed 
 the good old man, who for some days had been considered sick, stand- 
 ing in the gallery under the Chinese roof, and looking blithely through 
 the soft morning. Tlie friendliest salutation, the most pressing en- 
 treaties to come up, Lucidor resisted with excuses and gestures of 
 haste. Nothing but sympathy with the good old man, who, hasten- 
 ing down with infirm step, seemed every moment in danger of falling 
 to the bottom, could induce him to turn thither, and then suiler him- 
 self to be conducted up. With surprise he entered the pretty little 
 hall : it had only three windows, turned towards the park ; a most 
 graceful prospect : the other sides were decorated, or rather covered, 
 with hundreds of portraits, copperplate or painted, which were fixed 
 in a certain order to the wall, and separated by colored borders and 
 interstices. 
 
 "I favor you, my friend, more than I do every one ; this is the 
 sanctuary in which I peacefully spend my last days. Here I recover 
 myself from all the mistakes which society tempts me to commit : 
 here my dietetic errors are corrected, and my old being again restored 
 to equilibrium." 
 
 Lucidor looked over the place ; and being well read in history he 
 easily observed that a historical taste had presided in its arrange- 
 ment. 
 
 " Above, there, in the frieze," said the old virtuoso, " you will find 
 the names of distinguished men in the primitive ages ; then those of 
 later antiquity ; yet still only their names, for how they looked would 
 now be difficult to discover. But here, in the main field, comes my 
 own life into play ; here are the men whose names I used to hear 
 mentioned in my boyhood. For some fifty years or so the name of a 
 distinguished man continues in the remembrance of the people ; then 
 it vanishes, or becomes fabulous. Though of German parentage, I 
 was born in Holland ; and for me William of Orange, Stadtholder, 
 and King of England, is the patriarch of all common great men and 
 heroes. 
 
 "Now, close by William, you observe Louis Fourteenth as the 
 person who — " How gladly would Lucidor have cut short the good 
 old man, had it but been permitted him, as it is to us the narrators : 
 for the whole late and latest history of the world seemed impending ; 
 as from the portraits of Frederick the C}reat and his generals, towards 
 which he was glancing, was but too clearly to be gathered. 
 
 And though the kindly young man could not but respect his old 
 friend's lively sympathy in these things, or deny that some individual 
 features and views in this exhibitory discourse might be interesting ; 
 yet at college he had heard the late and latest history of Europe 
 $ilready ; and what a man has once heard he fancies himself tp know
 
 CSAPTER XIX. 583 
 
 foreveh Lucidor's thoughts were wandering far away ; he heard 
 not, he scarcely saw ; and was just on the point, in spite of all polite- 
 ness, of flinging himself out, and tumbling down the long fatal stair, 
 when a loud clapping of hands was heard from below. 
 
 While Jjucidor restrained his movement, the old man looked over 
 through the window, and a well-known voice resounded from be- 
 neath : " Come down, for Heaven's sake, out of your historic picture- 
 gallery, old gentleman ! Conclude your fasts and humiliations, and 
 help me to appease our young friend, when he learns it. Lucidor's 
 horse I have ridden somewhat hard ; it has lost a shoe, and I was 
 obliged to leave the beast behind me. What will he say ? He is too 
 absurd, when one behaves absurdly." 
 
 " Come up ! " said the old man, and turned in to Lucidor : " Now, 
 what say you?" Lucidor was silent, and the wild blade entered. 
 The discussion of the business lasted long : at length it was deter- 
 DLined to dispatch the groom forthwith, that he might seek the horse 
 and take charge of it. 
 
 Leaving the old man, the two younkers hastened to the house ; 
 Lucidor, not quite unwillingly, submitted to this arrangement. Come 
 of it what might, within these walls the sole wish of his heart was 
 included. In such desperate cases we are, at any rate, cut off from 
 the assistance of our free will ; and we feel ourselves relieved for a 
 moment when, from any quarter, direction and constraint takes hold 
 of us. Yet, on entering his chamber, he found himself in the 
 strangest mood ; like a man who, having just left an apartment of 
 an inn, is forced to return to it, by the breaking of an axle. 
 
 The gay younker fell upon the traveling-bag, unpacked it all in 
 due order, especially selecting every article of holiday apparel, which, 
 though only on the traveling scale, was to be foundt here. He forced 
 Lucidor to put on fresh shoes and stockings ; he dressed for him his 
 clustering brown locks, and decked him at all points with his best 
 skill. Tlien stepping back, and surveying our friend and his own 
 handiwork from head to foot, he exclaimed : " Now, then, my good 
 fellow, you do look like a man that has some pretensions to pretty 
 damsels ; and serious enough, moreover, to spy about you for a bride. 
 Wait one moment ! You shall see how I too can produce myself 
 when the hour strikes. This knack I learned from your military offi- 
 cers ; the girls are always glancing at them ; so I likewise have 
 enrolled myself among a certain soldiery ; and now they look at me 
 too, and look again, and no soul of them knows what to make of it. 
 And so, from this looking and relooking, from this surprise and 
 attention, a pretty enough result now and then arises ; which, though 
 it were not lasting, is worth enjoying for the moment. 
 
 " But, come along, my friend, and do the like service for me ! 
 When you have seen me case myself by piecemeal in my equipment, 
 you will not say that wit and invention have been denied me." He 
 now led his friend through .several long, .spacious passages of the old
 
 584 MEIStER'S TRAVEL8. 
 
 castle. " I have quite nestled myself here," cried he. "Though I 
 care not for hiding, I like to be alone ; you can do no good with other 
 people." 
 
 They were passing by the oflBce rooms, just as a servant came out 
 with a patriarchal writing apparatus, black, massive and complete ; 
 paper, too, was not forgotten. 
 
 " I know what is to be blotted here again," cried the younker ; " go 
 thy ways, and leave me the key. Take a look of the place, Lucidor ; 
 it will amuse you till I am dressed. To a friend of justice, such ; 
 spot is not odious, as to a tamer of horses." And with this he pushed 
 Lucidor into the hall of judgment. 
 
 Lucidor felt himself directly in a well-known and friendly element ; 
 he thought of the days when he, fixed down to business, had sat at 
 such a table ; and listening and writing, had trained himself to his 
 art. Nor did he fail to observe, that in this case an old stately domes- 
 tic chapel had, under the change of religious ideas, been converted to 
 the service of Themis. In the repositories he found some titles and 
 acts already familiar to him ; in these very matters he had co-operated, 
 while laboring in the capital. Opening a bundle of papers, there 
 came into his hands a rescript which he himself had dictated ; another 
 of which he had been the originator. Handwriting and paper, signet 
 and president's signature, everything recalled to him that season of 
 judicial effort, of youthful hope. And here, when he looked round, 
 and saw the oberamtmann's chair, appointed and intended for him- 
 self ; so fair a place, so dignified a circle of activity, which he was 
 now like to cast away and utterly lose, all this oppressed him doubly 
 and trebly, as the form of Lucinda seemed to retire from him at the 
 same time. 
 
 He turned to go out into the open air, but found himself a prisoner. 
 His gay friend, heedlessly or roguishly, had left the door locked. 
 Lucidor, however, did not long continue in this durance ; for the 
 other returned, apologized for his oversight, and really called forth 
 good humor by his singular appearance. A certain audacity of color 
 and cut in his clothes was softened by natural taste, as even to tat- 
 tooed Indians we refuse not a certain approbation. "To-day," cried 
 he, " the tedium of bygone days shall be made good to us. Worthy 
 friends, merry friends are come ; pretty girls, roguish and fond ; and 
 my father to boot ; and wonder on wonder ! your father, too. This 
 will be a festival truly ; they are all assembled for breakfast in the 
 parlor." 
 
 With Lucidor, at this piece of information, it was as if he were 
 looking into deep fog ; all the figures, known and unknown, which 
 tlie words announced to him, assumed a spectral aspect ; yet his reso- 
 lution, and the consciousness of a pure heart, sustained him, and, in 
 a few seconds, he felt himself prepared for everything. He followed 
 his hastening friend with a steady step, firmly determined to await 
 the issue, be what it might, and explain his own purposes, come what 
 come roight.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 585 
 
 And yet, at the very threshold of the hall, he was struck with some 
 alarm. In a large half-circle, ranged round by the windows, he im- 
 mediately descried his father \vitli the oberamtmann, both splendidly 
 attired. The two sisters, Antoni, and others known and unknown, 
 he hurried over with a glance, which was threatening to grow dim. 
 Half-waveriug, he approached his father ; who bade him welcome 
 with the utmost kindness, yet in a certain style of formality which 
 scarcely invited any trustful application. Standing before so many 
 persons, he looked round to find a place among them for a moment : 
 he might have arranged himself beside Lucinda ; but Julia, contrary 
 to the rigor of etiquette, made room for him, so that he was forced to 
 step to her side. Antoni continued by Lucinda. 
 
 At this important moment, Lucidor again felt as if he were a dele- 
 gate ; and, steeled by his whole juridical science, he called up in his 
 own favor the fine maxim : That we should transact afEairs delegated 
 to us by a stranger, as if they were our own ; why not our own, there- 
 fore, in the same spirit ? Well practiced in official orations, he speed- 
 ily ran over what he had to say. But the company, ranged in a 
 formal semi-circle, seemed to outflank him. The purport of his 
 speech he knew well ; the beginning of it he could not find. At this 
 crisis, he observed on the table, in the corner, the large ink-glass, 
 and several clerks sitting round it ; the oberamtmann made a move- 
 ment as if to solicit attention for a speech ; Lucidor wished to antici- 
 pate him ; and, at that very moment, Julia pressed his hand. This 
 threw him out of all self-possession ; convinced him that all was 
 decided, all lost for him. 
 
 With the whole of these negotiations, these family alliances, with 
 social conventions anoL rules of good manners, he had now nothing 
 more to do ; he snatched his hand from Julia's, and vanished so rap- 
 idly from the room, that the company lost him unawares, and he out 
 of doors could not find himself again. 
 
 Shrinking from the light of day, which shone down upon him in 
 its highest splendor ; avoiding the eyes of men ; dreading search and 
 pursuit, he hurried forwards, and reached the large garden hall. 
 Here his knees were like to fail him ; he rushed in, and threw him- 
 self, utterly comfortless, upon the sofa beneath the mirror. Amid 
 the polished arrangements of society, to be caught in such unspeak- 
 able perplexity ! It dashed to and fro like waves about him and 
 within him. His past existence was struggling with his present ; it 
 was a frightful moment. 
 
 And so he lay for a time, with his face hid in the cushion, on which 
 last night Lucinda's arm had rested. Altogether sunk in his sorrow, 
 he had heard no footsteps approach ; feeling some one touch him, he 
 started up, and perceived Lucinda standing by his side. 
 
 Fancying they had sent her to bring him back, had commissioned 
 her to lead him with fit sisterly words into the assemblage to front 
 his hated doom, he exclaimed ; " You they should not have sent, Lu-
 
 586 MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 cinda ; for it was you that drove me away. I will not return. Give 
 me, if you are capable of any pity, procure my convenience and 
 means of flight. For, that you yourself may testify how impossible 
 it was to bring me back, listen to the explanation of my conduct, 
 which to you and all of them must seem insane. Hear now the oath 
 which I have sworn in my soul, and which I incessantly repeat in 
 words : with you only did I wish to live ; with you to enjoy, to em- 
 ploy my days, from youth to old age, in true honorable union. And 
 let this be as firm and sure as aught ever sworn before the altar ; this 
 which I now swear, now when I leave you, the most pitable of all 
 men." 
 
 He made a movement to glide past her, as she stood close before 
 him ; but she caught him softly in her arms. ' ' What is this ? " 
 exclaimed he. 
 
 " Lucidor ! " cried she, " not pitiable as you think ; you are mine, I 
 am yours ; I hold you in my arms ; delay not to throw your arms 
 about me. Your father has agreed to all ; Antoni marries my sister." 
 
 In astonishment he recoiled from her. ' ' Can it be ? " Lucinda 
 smiled and nodded ; he drew back from her arms. " Let me view 
 once more, at a distance, what is to be mine so nearly, so insepa- 
 rably?" He grasped her hands. " Lucinda, are you mine?" 
 
 She answexed : " Well, then, yes ;" the sweetest tears in the truest 
 eyes ; he clasped her to his breast, and threw his head behind hers ; 
 he hung like a shipwrecked mariner on the cliffs of the coast ; the 
 ground still shook under him. And now his enraptured eye, again 
 opening, lighted on the mirror. He saw her there in his arms, him- 
 self clasped in hers ; he looked down, and again to the image. Such 
 emotions accompany man throughout his life. In the mirror, also, 
 he beheld the landscape, which last night had appeared to him so 
 baleful and ominous, now lying fairer and brighter than ever ; and 
 himself in such a posture, on such a background ! Abundant recom- 
 pense for all sorrows ! 
 
 " We are not alone," said Lucinda ; and scarcely had he recovered 
 from his rapture, when, all decked and garlanded, a company of girls 
 and boys came forward, carrying wreaths of flowers, and crowding 
 the entrance of the hall. " This is not the way," cried Lucinda. 
 " How prettily it was arranged and now it is all running into tumult ! " 
 A gay march sounded from a distance ; and the company were seen 
 coming on. by the large road in stately procession. Lucidor hesitated 
 to advance towards them ; only on her arm did he seem certain of his 
 steps. She stayed beside him, expecting from moment to moment 
 the solemn scene of meeting, of thanks for pardon already given. 
 
 But by the capricious gods it was otherwise determined. The gay 
 clanging sound of a postilion's horn, from the opposite side, seemed 
 to throw the whole ceremony into rout. "Who can be coming?" 
 cried Lucinda. The thought of a strange presence was frightful to 
 Lucidor ; aad the carriage seemed entirely unknown to him, A
 
 \CHAPTER XIX. 587 
 
 double-seated, new, spick-and-span new traveling chaise 1 It rolled 
 up to the hall. A well-dressed, handsome boy sprang down ; opened 
 the door ; but no one dismounted ; the chaise was empty. The boy 
 stepped into it ; with a dexterous touch or two he threw back the 
 tilts ; and there, in a twinkling, stood the daintiest vehicle in readi- 
 ness for the gayest drive, before the eyes of the whole party, who 
 were now advancing to the spot. Antoni, out-hastening the rest, led 
 Julia to the carriage. " Try if this machine," said he, " will please 
 you ; if you can sit in it, and over the smoothest roads, roll through 
 the world beside me : I will lead you by no other but the smoothest ; 
 and when a strait comes, we shall know how to help ourselves. Over 
 the mountains sumpters shall carry us, and our coach also." 
 
 " You are a dear creature !" cried Julia. The boy came forward ; 
 and with the quickness of a conjurer, exhibited all the conveniences, 
 little advantages, comforts and celerities of the whole light edifice. 
 
 "On earth I have no thanks," cried Julia; "but from this little 
 moving heaven, from this cloud, into which you raise me, I will 
 heartily thank you." She had already bounded in, throwing him 
 kind looks and a kiss of the hand. " For the present you come not 
 hither ; but there is another whom I mean to take along with me in 
 this proof excursion ; he himself has still a proof to undergo." She 
 called Lucidor ; who, just then occupied in mute conversation with 
 his father and father-in-law, willingly took refuge in the light vehi- 
 cle ; feeling an irresistible necessity to dissipate his thoughts in some 
 way or other, though it were but for a moment. He placed himself 
 beside her ; she directed the postilion where he was to drive. In- 
 stantly they darted off, enveloped in a cloud of dust ; and vanished 
 from the eyes of the amazed spectators. 
 
 Julia fixed herself in the corner as firmly and commodiously as she 
 could wish. " Now do you shift into that one too, good brother ; so 
 that we may look each other rightly in the face." 
 
 Lucidor. You feel my confusion, my embarrassment ; I am still as 
 if in a dream ; help me out of it. 
 
 Julia. Look at these gay peasants, how kindly they salute us ! 
 You have never seen the upper hamlet yet, since you came hither. 
 All good substantial people there, and all thoroughly devoted to me. 
 No one of them so rich that you cannot, by a time, do a little kind 
 service to him. This road, which we whirl along so smoothly, is my 
 father's doing ; another of his benefits to the community. 
 
 Lucidor. I believe it, and willingly admit it ; but what have these 
 external things to do with the perplexity of my internal feelings ? 
 
 Julia. Patience a little ! I will show you the riches of this world 
 and the glory thereof. Here now we are at the top. Do but look 
 how clear the level country lies all round us leaning against the 
 mountains 1 All these villages are much, much indebted to my 
 father ; to mother and daughters too. The grounds of yon little 
 hamlet are the border.
 
 58^ MMSTER' 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 Lucidor. Surely you are in a very strange mood ; you do not seeiri 
 to be saying what you meant to say. 
 
 Julia. But now look down to the left ; how beautifully all this un- 
 folds itself ! The church, with its high lindens ; the amthaus, with 
 its poplars, behind the village knoll I Here, too, are the garden and 
 the park. 
 
 The postilion drove faster. 
 
 Julia. The hall up yonder you know ; it looks almost as well here, 
 as this scene does from it. Here, at the tree, we shall stop a moment ; 
 now in this very spot our image is reflected in the large mirror ; there 
 they see us full well, but we cannot see ourselves. — Go along, postil- 
 ion ! There, some little while ago, two people, I believe, were re- 
 flected at a shorter distance ; and, if I am not exceedingly mistaken, 
 to their great mutual satisfaction. 
 
 Lucidor, in ill humor, answered nothing : they went on for some 
 time in silence, driving very hard. " Here," said Julia, "the bad 
 road begins : a service left for you to do some day. Before we go 
 lower, look down once more. My mother's box-tree rises with its 
 royal summit over all the rest. Thou wilt drive," continued she to 
 the postilion, " down this rough road ; we shall take the footpath 
 through the dale, and so be sooner at the other side than thou." In 
 dismounting she cried : " Well, now, you will confess, the Wander- 
 ing Jew, this restless Antoni the traveler, can arrange his pilgrim- 
 ages prettily enough for himself and his companions : it is a very 
 beautiful and commodious carriage." 
 
 And with this she tripped away down hill ; Lucidor followed her, 
 in deep thought ; she was sitting on a pleasant seat ; it was Lucin- 
 da's little spot. She invited him to sit by her. 
 
 Julia. So now we are sitting here, and one is nothing to the other. 
 Thus it was destined to be. The little quicksilver would not suit 
 you. Love it you could not, it was hateful to you. 
 
 Lucidor's astonishment increased. 
 
 Julia. But Lucinda, indeed ! She is the paragon of all perfections ; 
 and the pretty sister was once for all cast out. I see it, the question 
 hovers on your lips ; who has told us all so accurately ? 
 
 Lucidor. There is treachery in it ! 
 
 Julia. Yes, truly ! There has been a traitor at work in the matter. 
 
 Lucidor. Name him. 
 
 Julia. He is soon unmasked. You ! You have the praiseworthy 
 or blameworthy custom of talking to yourself : and now, in the name 
 of all, I must confess that in turn we have overheard you. 
 
 Lucidor (starting up). A sorry piece of hospitality, to lay snares 
 for a stranger in this way ! 
 
 Julia. By no means ! We thought not of watching you more than 
 any other. But, you know, your bed stands in the recess of the wall : 
 on the opposite side is another alcove, commonly employed for laying 
 up household articles. Hither, some days before, we had shifted our
 
 CSAPTER XIX. 589 
 
 old man's bed ; being anxious about liim in his remote hennitage : 
 and here, the first night, you started some such passionate soliloquy, 
 which he next morning took his opportunity of rehearsing. 
 
 Lucidor had not the heart to interrupt her. He withdrew. 
 
 Julia (rising and following him). What a service this discovery 
 did us all ! For I will confess, if you were not positively disagreea- 
 ble, the situation which awaited me was not by any means to my 
 mind. To be Frau Oberamtmannin, what a dreadful state ! To have 
 a brave gallant husband, who is to pass judgment on the people ; 
 and, for sheer judgment, cannot get to justice ! Who can please 
 neither high nor low ; and, what is worst, not even himself ! 1 know 
 what my poor mother suffered from the incorruptibility, the inflexi- 
 bility of my father. At last, indeed, but not till her death, a certain 
 meekness took possession of him : he seemed to suit himself to the 
 world, to make a truce with those evils which, till then, he had 
 vainly striven to conquer. 
 
 Lucidor (stopping short ; extremely discontented with the inci- 
 dent ; vexed at this light mode of treating it). For the sport of an 
 evening this might pass ; but to practice such a disgracing mystifica- 
 tion day and night against an unsuspicious stranger is not pardon- 
 able. 
 
 Julia. We are all equally deep in the crime ; we all hearkened 
 you : yet I alone pay the penalty of eavesdropping ! 
 
 Lucidor. All ! So much the more unpardonable ! And how could 
 you look at me, throughout the day, without blushing, whom at 
 night you were so contemptuously overreaching ? But I see clearly 
 with a glance that your arrangements by day were planned to make 
 mockery of me. A fine family ! And where was your father's love 
 of justice all this while ? — And Lucinda ! — 
 
 Julia. And Lucinda ! What a tone was that ! You meant to say, 
 did you not, how deeply it grieved your heart to think ill of Lucinda, 
 to rank her in a class with the rest of us ? 
 
 Lucidor. I cannot understand Lucinda. 
 
 Julia. In other words, this pure noble soul, this peacefully com- 
 posed nature, benevolence, goodness itself, this woman as she should 
 be, unites with a light-minded company, with a freakish sister, a 
 spoiled brother, and certain mysterious persons ! That is incompre- 
 hensible ! 
 
 Lucidor. Yes, indeed, it is incoiliprehensible. 
 
 Julia. Comprehend it then ! Lucinda, like the rest of us, had her 
 hands bound. Could you have seen her perplexity, how fain she 
 would have told you all, how often she was on the very eve of doing 
 it, you would now love her doubly and trebly, if indeed true love 
 were not always tenfold and hundredfold of itself. I can assure you, 
 moreover, that all of us at length thought the joke too long. 
 
 Lucidor. Why did you not end it, then ? 
 
 Julia, That, too, I must explain. No sooner had my father got
 
 590 MEI8TER' 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 intelligence of your first monologue, and seen, as was easy to do, that 
 none of his children would object to such an exchange, than he de- 
 termined on visiting your father. The importance of the business gave 
 him much anxiety. A father alone can feel the respect which is due to 
 a father. ' He must be informed of it in the first place," said mine, 
 " that he may not in the end, when we are all agreed, be reduced to 
 give a forced and displeased consent. I know him well ; I know how 
 any thought, any wish, any purpose cleaves to him; and I have my own 
 fears about the issue. Julia, his maps and pictures, he has long 
 viewed as one thing : he has it in his eye to transport all this hither, 
 when the young pair are once settled here, and his old pupil cannot 
 change her abode so readily ; on us he is to bestow his holidays ; and 
 who knows what other kind friendly things he has projected. He 
 must forthwith be informed what a trick nature has played us, while 
 yet nothing is declared, nothing is determined." And with this he 
 exacted from us all the most solemn promise that we should ob.serve 
 you, and, come what might, retain you here till his return. How 
 this retur)! has been protracted ; what art, toil and perseverance it 
 has cost to gain your father's consent, he himself will inform you. 
 In short, the business is adjusted : Luciuda is yours. 
 
 And thus had the two promenaders, sharply removing from their 
 first resting-place, then pausing by the way, then speaking and walk- 
 ing slowly through the green fields, at last reached the height, where 
 another well-leveled road received them. The carriage came whirl- 
 ing up : Julia in the meanwhile turned her friend's attention to a 
 strange sight. The whole machinery, of which her gay brother had 
 bragged so much, was now alive and in motion ; the wheels were 
 already heaving up and down a multitude of people ; the see-saws 
 were flying ; May-poles had their climbers ; and many a bold artful 
 swing and spring over the heads of an innumerable multitude you 
 might see ventured. The younker had set all a-going, that so the 
 guests, after dinner, might have a gay spectacle awaiting them. 
 "Thou wilt drive through the nether hamlet," cried Julia; "the 
 people wish me well, and they shall see how well I am off." 
 
 The hamlet was empty : the young people had all run to the swings 
 and see-saws ; old men and women, roused by the driver's horn, ap- 
 peared at doors and windows ; every one gave salutations and bless- 
 ings, exclaiming : "0 what a lovely pair ! " 
 
 Julia. There, do you hear ? We sliould have suited well enough 
 together, after all ; you may rue it yet. 
 
 Lucidor. But now, dear sister ! 
 
 Julia. Ha ! Now dear, when you are rid of me ? 
 
 Lucidor One single word ! On you rests a heavy accusation : what 
 did you mean by that squeeze of the hand, when you knew and felt 
 my dreadful situation? A thing so radically wicked I have never met 
 with in my life before. 
 
 Julia. "Thank Heaven we are now quits ; now all is pardoned. I
 
 CHAPTER XX. 591 
 
 had no mind for you, that is certain ; but that you had utterly and 
 absohitely no mind for me, this Avas a thing which no young woman 
 could forgive ; and the squeeze of the hand, observe you, was for the 
 rogue. I do confess, it was almost too roguish ; and I forgive myself, 
 because I forgive you ; and so let all be forgotten and forgiven. Here 
 is my hand. 
 
 He took it ; she cried : " Here we are again ! In our park again ; 
 and so in a trice we whirl through the wide world, and back too ; we 
 shall meet again." 
 
 They had reached the garden hall ; it seemed empty ; the com- 
 pany, tired of waiting, had gone out to walk. Antoni, however, and 
 Lucinda, came forth. Julia, stepping from the carriage, flew to her 
 friend ; she thanked him in a cordial embrace, and restrained not the 
 most joyful tears. The brave man's cheeks reddened, his features 
 looked forth unfolded ; his eye glanced moist, and a fair imposing 
 youth shone through the veil. 
 
 And so both pairs moved off to join the company, with feelings 
 which the finest dream could not have given them. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " Thus, my friends," said Lenardo, after a short preamble, " if we 
 survey the most populous provinces and kingdoms of the firm earth, 
 we observe on all sides that wherever an available soil appears, it is 
 cultivated, planted, shaped, beautified ; and in the same proportion, 
 coveted, taken into possession, fortified and defended. Hereby we 
 bring home to our conceptions the high worth of property in land ; 
 and are obliged to consider it as the first and best acquirement that 
 can be allotted to man. And if on closer inspection we find parental 
 and filial love, the union of countrymen and toAvnsmen, and therefore 
 the universal feeling of patriotism, founded immediately on this same 
 interest in the soil, we cannot but regard that seizing and retaining 
 of space, in the great or the small scale, as a thing still more impor- 
 tant and venerable. Yes, Xattire herself has so ordered it ! A man 
 born on the glebe comes by habit to belong to it ; the two grow 
 together, and the fairest ties are spun from their union. Who is 
 there, then, that would spitefully disturb this foundation-stone of all 
 existence ; that would blindly deny the worth and dignity of such 
 precious and peculiar gifts of Heaven? 
 
 " And yet we may assert, that if what man possesses is of great 
 worth, wiiat he does and accomplishes must be of still greater. In a 
 wide view of things, therefore, we must look on property in land as 
 one small part of the possessions that have been given us. Of these
 
 592 ME18TER' 8 TRAVELS, 
 
 tlie greatest and tlie most precious part, consists especially in what is 
 movable, and in what is gained by a moving life. 
 
 ' ' Towards this quarter, we younger men are peculiarly constrained 
 to turn ; for though we had inherited from our fathers the desire of 
 abiding and continuing, we find ourselves called by a thousand causes 
 nowise to shut our eyes against a wider outlook and survey. Let us 
 hasten, then, to the shore of the ocean, and convince ourselves what 
 boundless spaces are still lying open to activity ; and confess that, by 
 the bare thought of this, we are roused to new vigor. 
 
 " Yet, not to lose ourselves in these vast expanses, let us direct our 
 attention to the long and large surface of so many countries and 
 kingdoms, combined together on the face of the earth. Here we 
 behold great tracts of land tenanted by nomads ; whose towns are 
 movable, whose life-supporting household goods can be transferred 
 from place to place. We see them in the middle of the deserts, on 
 wide, green pasturages, lying as it were at anchor in their desired 
 haven. Such movement, such wanderi-ng, becomes a habit with 
 them, a necessity ; in the end they groAv to regard the surface of the 
 world as if it were not bulwarked by mountains, were not cut asun- 
 der by streams. Have we not seen the northeast flow towards the 
 southwest, one people driving another before it, and lordship and 
 property altogether changed ? 
 
 " From over-populous countries, a similar calamity may again, in 
 the great circle of vicissitudes, occur more than once. What we have 
 to dread from foreigners, it may be difficult to say ; but it is curious 
 enough, that by our own over population, we ourselves are thronging 
 one another in our own domains, and without awaiting to be driven, 
 are driving one another forth, passing sentence of banishment each 
 against his fellow. 
 
 ' ' Here now is the place and season for giving scope in qur bosoms, 
 without spleen or anger, to a love of movement ; for unfettering that 
 impatient wish which excites us to change our abode. Yet, what- 
 ever we may purpose and intend, let it be accomplished not from 
 passion, or from any other influence of force, but from a conviction 
 corresponding to the wisest judgment and deliberation. 
 ^ "It has been said, and over again said : Where I am well, is my 
 country ! But this consolatory saw were better worded : Where I am 
 useful, is my country ! At home, you may be useless, and the fact 
 not instantly observed ; abroad in the world, the useless man is 
 speedily convicted. And now, if I say : Let each endeavor every- 
 where to be of use to himself and others, this is not a precept, or a 
 counsel, but the utterance of life itself. 
 
 " Cast a glance over the terrestrial ball, and for the present leave 
 the ocean out of siglit ; let not its hurrying fleets distract your 
 thoughts ; but fix your eye on the firm earth, and be amazed to see 
 how it is overflowed with a swarming ant-tribe, jostling and crossing, 
 and running to and fro forever ? So W9^s it ordained of the Lord him-
 
 CHAPTER XX. , 593 
 
 self, when obstructing the tower of Babel, he scattered the human 
 race abroad into all the world. Let us praise his name on this account, 
 for the blessing has extended to all generations. 
 
 " Observe now, and cheerfully, how the young, on every side, in- 
 stantly get into movement. As instruction is not offered them within 
 doors, and knocks not at their gates, they hasten forthwith to those 
 countries and cities whither the call of science and wisdom allures 
 them. Here, no sooner have they gained a rapid and scanty training,' 
 than they feel themselves impelled to look round in the world, 
 whether here and there some profitable experience, applicable to their 
 objects, may not be met with and appropriated. Let these try 
 their fortune ! We turn from them to those completed and dis- 
 tinguished men, those noble inquirers into nature, who wittingly 
 encounter every difficulty, every peril, that to the world they may lay 
 the world open, and, through the most impassable, pave easy roads. 
 
 " But observe also, on beaten highways, how dust on dust, in long 
 cloudy trains, mounts up, betokening the track of commodious top- 
 laden carriages, in which the rich, the noble, and so many others, are 
 whirled along ; whose varying purposes and dispositions Yorick has 
 most daintily explained to us. 
 
 " These the stout craftsman, on foot, may cheerily gaze after ; for 
 whom his country has made it a duty to appropriate foreign skill, and 
 not till this has been accomplished, to revisit his paternal hearth. In 
 still greater numbers do traffickers and dealers meet us on our road ; 
 the little trader must not neglect, from time to time, to forsake his 
 shop, that he may visit fairs and markets, may approach the great 
 merchant, and increase his own small profit, by example and partici- 
 pation of the boundless. But yet more restlessly do we descry cruis- 
 ing on horseback, singly, on all high and by ways, that multitude of 
 persons whose business it is, in lawful wise, to make forcible preten- 
 sion to our purses. Samples of all sorts, prize-catalogues, invitations 
 to purchase, pursue us into town-houses and country-houses, and 
 wherever we may seek refuge : diligently they assault us and sur- 
 prise us ; themselves offering the opportunity, which it would have 
 entered no man's mind to seek. And what shall I say of that people 
 which, before all others, arrogates to itself the blessing of perpetual 
 wandering, and by its movable activity contrives to overreach the 
 resting, and to overstep the walking ? Of them we must say neither 
 ill nor good ; no good, because our league stands on its guard against 
 tliem ; no ill, because the wanderer, mindful of reciprocal advantage, 
 is bound to treat with friendliness whomsoever he may meet. 
 
 " But now, abov^e all, we must mention with peculiar affection, the 
 whole race of artists ; for they, too, are thoroughly involved in this 
 universal movement. Does not the painter wander, with pallet and 
 easel, from face to face ; and are not his kindred laborers summoned, 
 now this way, now that, because in all places there is something to be 
 built and to be fashioned 1 More briskly, however, paces the musi-
 
 :594 MEISTEB' 8 TRAVELS. 
 
 cian on his way ; for be peculiarly it is that for a new ear has pro- 
 vided new surprise, for a fresh mind fresh astonishment. Players, 
 too, though they now despise the cart of Thespis, still rove about in 
 little choirs, and their moving world, wherever they appear, is speedily 
 enough built up. So likewise, individually, renouncing serious pro- 
 fitable engagements, these men delight to change place with place, 
 according as rising talents, combined with rising wants, furnish 
 pretext and occasion. For this success they commonly prepare 
 themselves, by leaving no important stage in their native land un- 
 trodden. 
 
 " Nor let us forget to cast a glance over the professorial class : 
 these, too, you find in continual motion, occupying and forsaking one 
 chair after the other, to scatter richly abroad on every side the seeds 
 of a hasty culture. More assiduous, however, and of wider aim, are 
 those pious souls who disperse themselves through all quarters of the 
 world, to bring salvation to their brethren. Others, on the contrary, 
 are pilgriming to seek salvation for themselves : they march in hosts 
 to consecrated, wonder-working places, there to ask and receive what 
 was denied their souls at home. 
 
 ' ' And if all these sorts of men surprise us less by their wandering, 
 as for most part, without wandering, the business of their life were 
 impossible, of those again who dedicate their diligence to the soil, we 
 should certainly expect that they, at least, were fixed. By no means ! 
 Even without possession, occupation is conceivable ; and we behold the 
 eager farmer forsaking the ground which for years has yielded him 
 profit and enjoyment ; impatiently he searches after similar or greater 
 profit, be it far or near. Nay, the owner himself will abandon his 
 new-grubbed clearage so soon as, by his cultivation, he has rendered 
 it commodious for a less enterprising husbandman ; once more he 
 presses into the wilderness ; again makes space for himself in the 
 forests ; in recompense of that first toiling, a double and treble space ; 
 on which also, it may be, he thinks not to continue. 
 
 "There we shall leave him, bickering with bears and other mon- 
 sters ; and turn back into the polished world, where we find the state 
 of things no whit more stationary. Do but view any great and regu- 
 lated kingdom ; the ablest man is also the man who moves the often- 
 est , at the beck of his prince, at the order of his minister, the service- 
 able is transferred from place to place. To him also our preceist will 
 apply : everywhere endeavor to be useful, everywhere you are at home. 
 Yet if we observe important statesmen leaving, though reluctantly, their 
 high stations, we have reason to deplore their fate ; for we can neither 
 recognize them as emigrators nor as migrators ; not as emigrators, 
 because they forego a covetable situation without any prospect of a 
 better even seeming to open ; not as migrators, because to be useful 
 in other places is a fortun-e seldom granted them. 
 
 " For the soldier, again, a life of peculiar wandering is appointed ; 
 even in peace, now this, now that post is intrusted to him ; to fight,
 
 CHAPTER XX. 595 
 
 at hand or afar off for liis native country, he must keep himself per- 
 petually in motion or readiness to move ; and not for immediate 
 defense alone, but also to fulfill the remote purposes of nations and 
 rulers, he turns his steps towards all quarters of the world ; and to 
 few of his craft is it given to find any resting-place. And as, in the 
 soldier, courage is his first and highest quality, so this must always 
 be considered as united with fidelity ; and accordingly we find certain 
 nations, famous for trustworthiness, called forth from their home, 
 and serving spiritual or temporal regents as body-guards. 
 
 " Another class of persons indispensable to governments, and also 
 of extreme mobility, we see in those negotiators, who, dispatched 
 from court to court, beleaguer princes and ministers, and overnet the 
 whole inhabited world with their invisible threads. Of these men 
 also, no one is certain of his place for a moment. In peace, the ablest 
 of them are sent from country to country ; in war, they march behind 
 the army when victorious, prepare the way for it when fugitive ; and 
 thus are they appointed still to be changing place for place ; on which 
 account, indeed, they at all times carry with them a stock of farewell 
 cards. 
 
 " If hitherto at every step we have contrived to do ourselves some 
 honor, declaring as we have done the most distinguished portion of 
 active men to be our mates and fellows in destiny, there now remains 
 for you, my beloved friends, by way of termination, a glory higher 
 than all the rest, seeing you find yourselves united in brotherhood 
 with princes, kings and emperors. Think first, Avith blessings and 
 reverence, of the imperial wanderer Hadrian, who on foot, at the head 
 of his army, paced out the circle of the world which was subject to 
 him, and thus in very deed took possession of it. Think then with 
 horror of the conqueror, that armed wanderer, against whom no resist- 
 ance availed, no wall or bulwark could shelter armed nations. In fine, 
 accompany with honest sympathy those hapless exiled princes, who, 
 descending from the summit of the height, cannot even be received 
 into the modest guild of active wanderers. 
 
 " And now while we call forth and illustrate all this to one another, 
 no narrow despondency, no passionate perversion can rule over us. 
 The time is past when people rushed forth at random into the wide 
 world : by the labors of scientific travelers describing wisely and 
 copying like artists, we have become sufficiently acquainted with the 
 earth, to know moderately well what is to be looked for everywhere. 
 
 " Yet, for obtaining perfect infonnation an individual will not 
 suffice. Our society is founded on the iirinciple that each in his 
 degree, for his purposes, be thoroughly informed. Has any one of 
 us some country in his eye, towards which his wishes are tending, 
 we endeavor to make clear to him, in special detail, what was hover- 
 ing before his imagination as a whole ; to afford each other a survey 
 of the inhabited and inhabitable world, is a most pleasant and most 
 profitable kind of conversation.
 
 596 MEISTER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 " Under this aspect, we can look upon ourselves as members of a 
 union belonging to the world. Simple and grand is the thought ; 
 easy is its execution by understanding and strength. Unity is all- 
 powerful ; no division, therefore, no contention among us 1 Let a 
 man learn, we say, to figure himself as without permanent external 
 relation ; let him seek consistency and sequence not in circumstances 
 but in himself ; there will he find it ; there let him cherish and 
 nourish it. He who devotes himself to the most needful will in all 
 cases advance to his purpose with greatest certainty ; others, again, 
 aiming at the higher, the more delicate, require greater prudence 
 even in the choice of their path. But let a man be attempting or 
 treating what he will, he is not, as an individual, sufficient for him- 
 self ; and to an honest mind society remains the highest want. All' 
 serviceable persons ought to be related with each other, as the build- 
 ing proprietor looks out for an architect, and the architect for masons 
 and carpenters. 
 
 " How and on what principle this union of ours has been fixed and 
 founded is known to all. There is no man among us who at any 
 moment could not to proper purpose employ his faculty of action ; 
 who is not assured that in all places, whither chance, inclination, 
 or even passion may conduct him, he will be received, employed, 
 assisted, nay, in adverse accidents, as far as possible, refitted and 
 indemnified. 
 
 "Two duties we have most rigorously undertaken : first, to honor 
 every species of religious worship, for all of them are comprehended 
 more or less directly in the creed : secondly, in like manner to 
 respect all forms of government ; and since every one of them 
 induces and promotes a calculated activity, to labor according to the 
 wish and will of constituted authorities, in whatever place it may be 
 our lot to sojourn, and for whatever time. Finally, we reckon it our 
 duty, without pedantry or rigor, to practice and forward decorum of 
 manners and morals, as required by that reverence for ourselves 
 which arises from the three reverences : whereto we universally 
 profess our adherence ; having all had the joy and good fortune, 
 some of us from youth upwards, to be initiated likewise in the higher 
 general wisdom taught in certain cases by those venerable men. All 
 this, in the solemn hour of parting, we have thought good once more 
 to recount, to unfold, to hear and acknowledge, as also to seal with a 
 trustful farewell. 
 
 Keep not standing fix'd and rooted 
 
 Briskly venture, briskly roam ! 
 Head and hand, where'er thou foot it. 
 
 And stout heart are still at home. 
 In each land the sun does visit 
 
 We are gay whate'er betide ; 
 To give space for wand'ring is it 
 
 That the world was made so wide." 
 
 THE END,
 
 »f35KE«?»Ei;Kf*»^««iSS:S^-*^'
 
 CENTRAL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 University of California, San Diego 
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 ^EB 21 1975 
 
 FEB 18 
 
 MAY 1 3 1 
 
 MAY 
 
 P 1 
 
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 MAn9]977 
 
 ^^^^ ^ I.Atffl' 
 
 .1UN16 1977' 
 
 JONl^ig?? 
 
 '>^N 14 1300 
 
 PEC 1 1 1 979 
 
 MAR i 1 138! 
 
 MAR 1 6 19 8 1 
 
 JUN 16 1982 
 
 JUN15 
 
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 f £B 2 4 1^84 
 
 JUN •:' 9 1984 
 
 I^AY 2 7 i3g3 
 
 JUN 1 5 1988 RecTD 
 
 JUN 201988 
 
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